Ransom Due
by ilex9
Summary: Lunch steals Goku's original space pod and winds up out in space under the command of his older brother Raditzu. Now she's escaped to warn the Z fighters on Earth, but the Saiyajin warrior wants restitution. Please R&R if you feel like it.
1. Call Me Red Chief

AN: Hey, went ahead and gave this an R rating to be safe. If you happen to find this and actually read it give me a review because no one I know in their right mind would! Ransom Due: Chapter 1 Call Me Red Chief  
  
On the far edge of the Eastern rift, Station 599 Xi spun on its axis just fast enough to provide minimal gravity to keep its inhabitants and staff from floating around uncontrollably. It was not enough for the tall man with the wild hair to be comfortable. Worse, artificial gravity that was facilitated in such a way always came with some coriolis forces. Because he was used to so much more gravity on a normal basis, it seemed he was more sensitive to the coriolis forces that resulted in his feeling somewhat light-headed on top of the distinct impression that he weighed next to nothing. He thought to himself that this had to be the stupidest thing he had done in all his years. He carried a sack over his shoulder that contained various and sundry projectile weapons, and a handful of mineral stones, all of which were considered contraband within the borders of Freiza space. Although this station was on the very edge of the borders of Freiza Sama's providence, he could still be executed for even being in possession of such contraband, let alone trying to trade it for more contraband. The low-grav environment made him edgy under normal circumstances, this little 'mission' he'd set for himself was pushing the limits of his short patience and threshold for crowds of low-level scum aliens... and that was about all there was this far on the edge of Freiza space.  
  
He scanned the merchants' corridor for his contact. It seemed that the flotsam of the universe had been deposited in the narrow curving venue. Life forms of every type were packed in tightly, the variety of shapes and forms too numerous to put names to all the races. There were several that he was totally unfamiliar with despite his years as a planet broker. Everywhere he looked some feeble looking thing stared back with baleful eyes, most looking to trade for rations of one kind or another. The outer reaches of Freiza space was not known for being a land of plenty, unless of course, you were ballsy enough to deal in contraband. He shifted the non- weight of the big sack and tried to push away thoughts of the consequences possible if he were caught. Two small green-skinned aliens buffeted him. They held up a couple of cred sticks. "Rations," they pathetically begged, "fifty cred for rations?"  
  
If he weren't so intent on both finding his contact and not drawing too much attention to himself, he would have punted them to the other end of the corridor. As it was, the teeming crowd swallowed them before he could spit a curse at them. The smell of the corridor, a mix of myriad body odors, offal and stale rations was enough to make his stomach flip-flop, despite his hardened constitution. The cacophony of cries for this or that either available or wanted was nearly deafening. To his right, a beefy looking male alien with pink skin and what seemed to be oozing boils pounded on a standard issue vend-bot and ranted about being shortchanged. On his left, a tightly packed together group of what he supposed were elderly female aliens haggled over an unidentifiable headless carcass that had a rank odor that temporarily overpowered the other stenches of the corridor as he passed.  
  
Finally he spotted the man he sought, a short orange skinned humanoid male with a robotic telephoto lens where his right eye should have been. Its head was sparsely covered with a combed-over tuft of scraggly white hair, a feeble attempt at hiding the scaly flaking scalp beneath it. It leaned against the wall, an aloof expression on its face as the tall man pushed his way over. Its good eye didn't even alight on him, but it quietly murmured, "Mr. Raditzu, is it then? You're expected."  
  
The orange man tilted his chin up slightly, not enough to look Raditzu full in the face, just enough to take survey of the crowd surrounding them. The telephoto lens whirred as it focused, the orange man paused momentarily, seemingly concentrating on whatever the lens was showing him. "Well then," he said shortly, "I think I shall let you step into my office for this particular transaction... you require discretion, no?"  
  
"Just make it fast," Raditzu grumbled. The fact that this peddler knew his name up front just added to his unease.  
  
Orange man gestured behind him, pressed a panel on the wall of the corridor, and ducked into the hole that slid open. The tall Saiya-jin had to practically double over to follow Orange man into the conduit alley behind the corridor wall.  
  
"Welcome to my office, sir, what have you to trade?"  
  
Raditzu grumbled and upended the sack, spilling the collection of small firearms and stones at Orange man's feet. He got some small satisfaction at forcing the alien to bend over to examine the merchandise. The lens whirred some more as the alien made quiet clucking noises over the booty. "Hmmm... Andelonian opals... I hear these will be becoming more of a rarity since the unfortunate... disappearance of the Andelonusians. Worth a lot... worth a lot... And more 'retired' items... the Adelonusions were known for their fine workmanship in concussion blaster smithing." Orange man appreciatively slid some of the mechanics back and fourth on the more ornate of the firearms. A low growl rumbled from the waiting Saiya-jin.  
  
"Ah, yes, haste..." continued Orange man. He finally looked the tall Saiya full in the face. "This is plenty for what you're seeking, but you could get even more if you were willing to part with just a little of this." Orange man dared to reach towards a stray lock of the wild hair spilling over the Saiya-jin's shoulder. "Very much a rarity in and of itsel..."  
  
Orange man was roughly slammed into the conduit pipe behind him, the Saiya- jin's large hand encircling his insubstantial neck.  
  
"Just give me what I came for or you may find yourself 'retired'," the Saiya-jin barked.  
  
Orange man reached beneath his filthy rust-colored tunic and produced a full hypo-gun. "Here... this here's the good stuff," it choked. "But go easy... I figure you got bout ten doses in there for a man of your size.... Any more than that at once you'll fry your brain... become a vegetable." Orange man managed to choke out a short laugh at his own unintended pun.  
  
"Raditzu tossed the alien aside. It slid on its face across the corridor floor until an obstructing pipe stopped its momentum. By then the Saiya-jin had left the alley and was well on his way back to the docked ship.  
  
He immediately went to his barracks to wash the stink of the merchant corridor off. It was some time before he made his way to the med unit. As he entered the gray-blue skinned technician snapped to attention. Raditzu waved his hand at her, indicating that she should stand down for the moment. "I brought what you said you needed... you owe me a lot for that little jaunt," he snapped.  
  
"I'm s-sorry , sir," the tech stammered. "You're just too late. The slave has expired... I told you there was significant hemorrhaging and I'm totally unfamiliar with the mechanics of such a subject. If only the regen chambers had been an option for slaves..."  
  
Raditzu grunted. "Well then tell Zarbon he has won his wager," he said with no perceptible emotion, "unless you want to tell Dodoria that he has to pay up first." He turned on his heel and left the med unit before the tech could finish her "as you wish, sir."  
  
At least it's an end to that assignment, he thought to himself as he went through the things he'd need for the Chikyuu mission. He'd left his scouter to go station-side so that there was no chance anyone would track him to the merchant corridors. He picked it up off the small desk he was afforded and grabbed a couple of flasks of water for the trip. Stasis always seemed to parch him. If Kakarott were indeed still living, he'd have some payback of his own to account to for having sent the slave to his brother. It had been more than the annoyance he'd expected. He picked up the brief report that was to be sent back to Freiza, accounts of the estimated value of Chickyuu, estimated viability of saving a few of the inhabitants as slaves (more trouble than it's worth, he noted) and his intentions of drafting Kakarott into the planet trade. Freiza Sama would be well within his rights to simply kill his brother if he chose to do so, but Raditzu was clear on the order that he was to bring Kakarott back alive if he proved to be an asset to the trade. He kept the hypo gun with him as well, he surely wasn't going to give it to the med tech now, but he really had no use for it himself. His experience with the Chickyuu slave had taught him that he really could only expect the unexpected on the mission. He reasoned it might come in handy for something. At the very least he would have to ditch the evidence of his illegal dealings earlier in the day.  
  
He stalked off to the pod hangar in a foul mood. Already things had not gone smoothly. He really didn't care what Kakarott was up to, he'd already vowed to exterminate the planet's race in it's entirety for the ignominy the slave had caused him, not the least of which the sudden decision to ease it gently into death rather than let it suffer. He hadn't even known how the idea had weaseled its way into his mind. The thing deserved to suffer... he suddenly realized that he'd omitted the possibility that the race had some sort of psychic charming abilities in his report, then immediately thought the better of it. His honor had already been sullied enough by the slave as it was, no need to appear all the weaker by making excuses for his weakness.  
  
The hangar crew was 'milling about smartly' when he entered. He guessed they would have had his pod ready days ago as he had intended to disembark before the ship docked at Xi 599. He cursed himself for his stupidity in risking his position as sub-commander of this ship, not to mention the plain and simple waste of time. Chivkyuu had waited three and a half of it's own transitions around its sun for his arrival, for some reason several hours more hadn't seemed like it would be any major delay in the big scheme of things. Perhaps he had simply become bored with his life as one of Freiza's high-ranking officers, following orders and such. But what was he to have done? The commander of the ship, only one rank above himself, possessed a power level exponentially higher than his own. Freiza's power was unimaginably high. It would be pure folly and death not to fall into rank as Freiza decreed. Freiza had made clear to the Saiya-jin prince, Vegeta and the only other remaining Saiya-jin, Nappa, and within the audience of the majority of anyone who mattered within house Freiza: The Saiya-jin were a dead race, Vegeta now had nothing left to rule save two stragglers. Their culture was now that of House Freiza, in which not only strength, but loyalty, fealty and demonstration of it through performance dictated rank. Vegeta was a loose cannon; Nappa still blindly followed whatever Vegeta said. Raditzu considered following the orders given him to precision not only necessary to his survival, but to keeping his honor as a warrior intact. In truth, the very culture of planet Vegeta contributed more to this than anything else. He had done much the same in his life as no more than third class before the destruction of his home. Because of this, in terms of the hierarchal system, Raditzu's status had been twisted from that of a lowly soldier to that of sub-commander of his own galactic battle ship, ironically named Missionary. His commander and captain, Daax, was the only one who outranked him on Missionary. Yes, he was isolated from the only remaining members of his race, and his prince regarded him with disdain for having so many under his command, where a third class soldier clearly should not, in Saiyan terms. He was still a soldier, a warrior; he simply followed a different ruler now. He carried out his missions with unerring precision and efficiency and took his measure of pride in that fact. Vegetasei was gone, as was most of his race, he simply continued on in his role as strong arm for the planet trade, and fate had rewarded him. If this chagrinned his prince enough for him to kill Raditzu in a bout of strength, he would gladly welcome such an honored death. Vegeta had apparently not had the time or compunction to carry out such a sentence as of yet.  
  
He was jolted out of his train of thought at the sight of the empty docking bay where his pod should have been. His ire rose yet again to the misfortune of the nearest member of his crew. Before the pale and gangly pod mechanic had a chance to realize that misfortune he found himself pinned to the wall of the empty pod bay by the throat, nose to nose with the angry sub commander.  
  
"My pod. Where is it?" he growled.  
  
The crewman actually had the audacity to smirk at him as he replied. "Gone, as is your slave." The crewman had barely gotten the words out before the blow of the sub commander's fist shattered his face. Blood and gray matter sprayed the interior of the pod bay. As the husk of the crewman's body slid down the wall, something small hit the floor and rolled to a stop beside the remains. Raditzu glanced down and beheld the distinct sparkle of an Andolonian opal. He raised his furious gaze to the rest of the hangar crew, which was now backing towards the exit to the hangars in what seemed to be a close knot of quaking fear. He opened his palm to send enough ki energy to vaporize them all. At the gesture, one trembling crewman actually stepped forward from the mass of the rest.  
  
It declared loudly in its last seconds of life, "Though we die this day, we die free!" The searing blast then connected with the crewman and the rest of the cowering mass, leaving nothing but some ash, as predicted, and somehow one standard issue grav-boot, which skidded off across the floor in the aftermath of the blast.  
  
"Heh." Somehow he managed to find humor in this despite the obvious fact that he was in the midst of a mutiny. The med tech had blatantly lied about the expiration of his slave, and she in turn had somehow managed to charm not only medical staff, but also hangar staff to make her escape. As if he wouldn't simply take the next pod available and kill the slave himself. She would wish that she had died from the injuries inflicted upon her to put her in the med unit.  
  
He turned to move on to the next bay, only to be knocked off of his feet by a recognizably powerful explosion. Andolonian concussion charges. He watched in near disbelief as the rest of the pod bays exploded in succession and he found himself being dragged across the floor towards the compromised airlock left in the wake of the destruction. He powered up and fought the suction of empty space and propelled himself towards the door to the main part of the ship. He was buffeted by debris as he forced his body against the current of rushing air. Just as he was able to push past the secondary airlock to the docks, he was smacked in the face by something. He regarded the solitary grav-boot containing its severed foot spinning out into the darkness of space with malice as he cranked the passage airlock shut. He was now forced to take additional time to not only replace the destroyed pods, but the tainted crew before he could follow the slave and exact his revenge. He felt his ki rise again with his anger. The entire population of her planet would pay for this. They were all already dead as far as he was concerned. Suddenly more concussive blasts filled the ship. Damn! How many of those things had she managed to smuggle on board without his knowledge? Now he could just as well consider himself dead for allowing such a mutiny to take place. He took in the view out of the nearest porthole. Pieces of the Missionary were breaking off of its main bulkhead and floating off into the void. Without a pod, he was trapped on what was for all intents and purposes a sinking ship, and even if it managed to hold together long enough for anything to survive, he was trapped on the ship with a powerful and surely more than irate captain. If he survived the Missionary's destruction, his fate would be similar to the crew he'd just dispatched. He was staring at his own death in the spinning dance of the Missionary's shrapnel as it floated away from the rest of the ship. As his mind raced with curses and shock at the sudden turn of events, the realization surfaced that there was in fact one pod remaining on board the Missionary. Kakkarott's damaged pod, the very one the slave had arrived in was still in storage in the Missionary's cargo hold. He reached up and clicked the scouter on, open to all transmission frequency bands. News of the mutiny was already flooding the airwaves. Superimposed over it all was Daax's bellowing for "that stupid sub-monkey-man's head." Raditzu used the built up anger fueling his ki to make it to the cargo bay before Daax's approach from the central bridge of the ship overtook him. He noted that he could almost feel the pall of rage from that direction growing faintly stronger with every second. Finally the passage opened up to the cavernous cargo bay. He spotted the damaged pod immediately, noticing a solitary figure punching hurriedly at the keypad that would open the small hatch.  
  
"And just how are you going to get that thing through the hull of this ship?" He regarded the familiar med tech with disdain. She held up an Andelonian remote detonator, along with the third digit of her hand in reply without even stopping her poking at the keypad to regard him. In an instant he was upon her. Her shocked expression as he seemed to appear out of nowhere behind her teased a pause and a smug grin from him. Because blasting her with ki energy would have destroyed the pod as well, she would have to suffer physical blows from his fists, a far more enjoyable method of dispatching her as far as he was concerned. The now forgotten hypo gun shifted in the inside pouch of his armor's chest plate, and some whim prompted him to use it after a couple of well placed jabs to her ribs. The look of shock never left her face as he pierced her neck with the needle end of the hypo gun and emptied its contents into her bloodstream. Her body suddenly shook with convulsions. She would witness the destruction of the Missionary as it happened even as her brain deteriorated into useless sludge. He grinned at her again as he punched the code to open the pod's hatch on the keypad effortlessly, and then paused to charge enough ki to blast a hole through the bulkhead of the cargo hold. The last thing he saw of the Missionary before it collapsed into myriad pieces was the infuriated visage of Captain Daax entering the cargo hold, and his futile attempt to reach the escaping pod with a ki blast he didn't have time to aim properly before the rupture in the bulkhead sucked him out and pressure imploded his fat pink body in to no more than a splatter backlit by starlight.  
  
As the pod raced out into the darkness of space towards Chickyuu, he cut the transmission of his scouter to all but one other comm port. The one on his own pod.  
  
He was amazed at how composed, almost smoothly the words spilled out as he addressed the slave.  
  
"Congratulations, Lunch. You shall now have the distinct honor of watching me exterminate everything sentient on your planet. This pod is somewhat damaged and slower than what you have stolen from me, but you know I'm right behind you. Be assured that I will pile the bodies at your feet before I burn or consume them, and when I find those you hold most dear I will save the most intense suffering for them."  
  
Another channel crackled as it opened, interrupting him.  
  
"I told you I didn't hit that whelp hard enough. So here you are, a fool on yet another fools errand," Vegeta's voice hissed at him in the scouter's earpiece. He could hear Nappa chuckling in the background. "Ah, yes," Vegeta went on, "as the ranking surviving officer of your glorified freight ship, seems you are responsible for its destruction. Now you rest assured, Raditz..." Raditzu bristled at the blatant disrespect intended by the use of the shortened form of his name. "I have already petitioned Freiza Sama to take care of the embarrassing little problem you represent, and I intend to make good on that, with or without Freiza's blessing." 


	2. Homecoming or A Sprinkling of Stockholm...

AN: Chaosbardock – thanks for the review. If possible be a little more concise, and don't be afraid to rip into me on this, I welcome constructive criticism and I'm well aware that I'm not creating anything really worth writing home to mom about. Just blowing off steam. Sorry, no Raditz in this chapter – just trying to get some of the other characters fleshed out. I do plan on casting him as a major character, but I'm just wondering – can a hardened Saiyan warrior and a mentally unstable human criminal co-exist? My hypothesis is 'no' and hopefully that is what will make this story interesting. Let me know if I'm meandering into OOC land, although I will take some artistic license with Lunch because it'll probably be necessary to flesh out both sides of her, especially after a harrowing three years in space. Also, let me know if I skimmed through this part here a bit too much. Maybe it should be divided into two chapters so more description can be added – or would that just draw it out to much and bore you, the reader? Let me know. Kay?  
  
Ransom Due – Chapter 2 – Homecoming (or – A Sprinkling of Stockholm Syndrome)  
  
Kuririn was relaxing on the small beach outside of Kame House. The afternoon sun had shifted so that his beach chair was in the shadows of the eaves of the small pink dwelling. It was the best time for him to laze about outside in that the shade would prevent him from ending up with sunburn on his scalp. Half asleep, he heard the splashdown, but he was engulfed by a sizable wave before he was alert enough to investigate. He squinted towards the horizon and saw what looked like a rather large, round buoy bobbing several hundred yards out in the wake caused by its impact with the water. He hurriedly squeezed seawater out of his gi.  
  
"Muten Roshi!" he yelled, "You'd better come out here and take a look at this."  
  
When he got no response he ran in the house and proceeded to shake the sleeping sensei out of his no doubt lascivious dreams. Girlie magazines went sliding off the old man's chest and all over the floor as he sat up groggily. He adjusted his sunglasses and snorted a stray bead of snot back up into his nose.  
  
"Wha-what is it Kuririn?"  
  
"Something just crashed into the ocean right off shore. It looks pretty big, too." Kuririn hopped from foot to foot as he attempted to describe the unidentified object. "It looks almost like something that would come out of one of Bulma's capsules, but it's still too far off shore for me to tell. It just dropped out of the sky..."  
  
"Settle down, Kuririn. We haven't seen anything too terribly earth shattering out this way in several years. Please tell me that what you saw isn't another pleasure cruiser that turns out to be full of speedo-clad guys like last time you woke me up to go and see something that floated in on the currents."  
  
They both wandered back out to the beach. The resident turtle was already at the shoreline to investigate.  
  
"Hey, Kuririn," it said. "Why don't you fly on out there and see what that thing is?"  
  
"Well, alright... as long as you guys cover me..."  
  
It only took a moment for Kuririn to reach the thing. Upon closer inspection he could see that it was made of some kind of metal alloy, and completely spherical. A small porthole slid into his view as it rolled over in some waves. He carefully edged closer to the thing, and then got up enough courage to wipe away water obscuring his view through the rubylith glass. He could have sworn his jaw dropped open enough for his chin to hit the water when he was able to make out what was inside.  
  
"Holy crap! It can't be! She disappeared years ago!" he exclaimed to no one in particular. Inside the odd looking craft was a dark haired young woman he was familiar with. She was curled up in a fetal position on what appeared to be the craft's only seat, apparently asleep. He immediately maneuvered the craft towards the shore and the apprehensive pair waiting there.  
  
Once they had the metal sphere safely on the sand, they had to figure out how they would open it. They tried prying what looked like the door open. They smashed at the window that turned out to be stronger than any glass they'd ever seen. They yelled at the woman inside to try and wake her, but it appeared that the as yet unbreakable seal on the door shut out their calls. Kuririn finally decided that it would be worth the risk to use a low powered kienzan on the metal shell, but it just bounced off harmlessly, leaving little more than a divot in the chrome like surface of the craft. It did, however, unseat the large sphere from the sand dugout they'd improvised to hold the thing steady while they worked on opening it. It rolled down the small beach and back into the now gentle surf. This must have rattled the contents enough to wake the occupant finally. They were able to discern what was now a blonde head momentarily pop up in the porthole.  
  
"Suuuure," drawled Muten Roshi in a poor imitation of Kuririn's voice. "I'll just try a little kienzan on it..." He smirked at the short man before flying into a tirade. "NOW IF WE DO GET THAT THING OPEN SHE'LL SHOOT US ALL TO HELL! Let's just let it float out there a while and check later to see if she's sneezed yet..."  
  
He was interrupted by a loud bang that sounded like a car wreck. Lunch appeared through the now smoking aperture of the craft and hopped out into the waist high water. She had a very strange looking weapon slung over her shoulder, and she was wearing a tight fitting black bodysuit with what could only be described as armor covering her chest and shoulders. Stranger still, she had some kind of device that fitted over one ear and had an attached lens that covered only one eye. To Kuririn it looked for all the world like some strange amalgamation of half a headphone and half a pair of sunglasses. She cocked her head over to the side the device was on and touched the part over her ear. Then she turned to face Kuririn and repeated the gesture, sighing heavily.  
  
"Not a chance," she said under her breath. "OK, Cueball," she barked at Kuririn." "Push this thing back over to land and get the Briefs kid out here to fix that airlock... fucking IVR locks, they never seem to work right."  
  
Kuririn momentarily floated and stared at her, vaguely aware that his jaw was hanging open again.  
  
"Nice to see you, too, Lunch," he said sarcastically, thinking better of it as her hand moved toward the weapon she carried. Fortunately she was just readjusting the strap that supported it. It was a large weapon and seemed rather awkward in contrast to her small frame.  
  
"Aw, screw it. I'll do it myself! I actually forgot what total losers you guys can be." She waded around so that she could push the craft towards shore, but water had started filling the interior through the open hatch. Kuririn was sure that it would be too heavy for her to handle, so he went around to help her push.  
  
"Where have you been all this time," he asked. His attempt at small talk was rebuffed. She paused and rolled her eyes at him and went back to pushing on the space pod.  
  
When they got back to the shore, Kuririn rolled the pod over so that some of the water would drain and then shimmied it back into the improvised dugout. Lunch leaned into the open door to look over the now sopping interior. She was checking the few visible electronic panels and gauges which all seemed to be unaffected by the moisture. Only the mechanism that apparently worked the door was broken, and occasionally a spark or two would jump from the small keypad on the outside that Kuririn hadn't noticed previously.  
  
As she was leaning over, Kame Sen'nin got a full view of her rear end, which was wrapped neatly in the wet, skintight bodysuit. He couldn't help himself and reached out to squeeze it. Before his hand got within an inch of her she swung around to face him and simultaneously unhitched the weapon from her back.  
  
"Back off Old Man!" she yelled as she smashed right into the sensei's nose with the substantial butt of the gun. He went flying back and landed in the sand on his own rump several feet away, blood spurting from his nose.  
  
She turned back to face Kuririn. "Look, there's a lot... no, that's too much of an understatement... just... if you guys want to stay alive, you'll do exactly what I tell you and not waste time with questions. I need Bulma over here pronto to get that pod door to lock properly, and you probably want to get Goku out here as well." She paused and tapped on the strange headpiece again and said to no one in particular, "I estimate we've got three months... two weeks more tops if he decides to wait for the moon... and Kami help us if he does..." She looked over the three stunned faces with disdain. "Well? Get moving! I'm going to grab a bite; I've been in stasis for way too long. Yell at me when Bulma and Goku get here." With that she marched into the small house.  
  
Muten Roshi, despite his frazzled state watched her retreating backside. He finally composed himself and managed to stop the blood flow from his nose. He pinched his nostrils together gingerly and gave Kuririn and the turtle a sideways glance. "Either I'm getting terribly old or that girl's a lot stronger than she was before she left us."  
  
After making a couple of hasty calls to Bulma and Goku, Kuririn made an extra call to Tenshinhan. He found it odd that Lunch hadn't even mentioned Ten. After all, she'd originally left Kame House to follow Ten. It was Tenshinhan who had first discovered that Lunch seemed to have disappeared off the face of the earth. Maybe the two hadn't parted on good terms, but Ten hadn't revealed anything in their short conversation. In fact, he seemed relieved and happy that they'd found Lunch. He considered this as he wandered into the tiny kitchen and found Lunch poking around in the refrigerator. She already had one arm overloaded with various and sundry meats and cheeses and her mouth stuffed with a large chunk of bread as she continued rummaging.  
  
"You know," he said softly, "we were really worried about you. After so long we wondered if you had left us for good."  
  
"Mmmm-hmmm" she mumbled as she was scarfing the last bits of the large sandwich she'd made. They were interrupted by the whirr of rotor blades as Bulma landed her capsule copter outside. Lunch quickly put together another sandwich and motioned for Kuririn to follow her out to meet the young woman.  
  
Bulma was already practically swarming over the space pod. Her examination was peppered with exclamations over the obviously advanced technology. Lunch walked right up behind her, dropped the sandwich, grabbed her shoulder spun her around.  
  
"Don't touch anything until I explain what's what." She was back to barking orders.  
  
"Oh, hi Lunch." Bulma smiled despite the other woman's sour demeanor. "Looks like you've had quite a hiatus while the rest of us just got to hang around on this boring old rock. I've always dreamed about space travel! Give me all the juicy details and we'll be mass-producing these babies in capsules before you know it!" She was so excited about the space pod she didn't seem to notice the angry scowl that began to cross Lunch's face. "Of course the corporation will agree to giving you a handsome royalty for providing us with the original prototype..."  
  
"No," said Lunch in a menacingly even tone. "You missed that chance three years ago. I was going to sell you a pod just like this one, but because those damn IVR locks are so freakin' dicey, once I got into the thing, I couldn't get out. Then I must've hit the WRONG button because the next thing I knew I was waking up in the middle of Kami knows where out in space. Choking to death because the oxygen had run out. And, no, it wasn't fun. Just fix the damn door. I'd ask you to jury rig the thing so it would work better than the original design, but we really don't have the luxury of that kind of time here." She then pointed to a small switch on the unassuming console inside the pod. "DO NOT touch that. That switch will activate a homing beacon. The last thing I want is for the guy following me out here to know our exact location. I'm at least relatively sure the first thing he'll be looking for is the highest power signature he can pick up on, which means Goku..."  
  
"Hold on a minute," Bulma cut in. He smile had frozen at Lunch's denial to her 'claim' on the space pod, and had drooped into a considerable frown by this time. "What do you mean, 'we?' This craft is obviously built for only one. Whatever your plan is for this thing, I can tell you don't intend to be letting us in on the punch line. So who's this guy and why's he following you?" Her lips began to turn up slightly into a smug grin. "Lunch, have you been out in space breaking hearts?" she chided and nudged the blonde with her elbow.  
  
She quickly found herself with an up close and personal view of the barrel of Lunch's new gun.  
  
"Shut up. Now." The blonde looked like she was about to explode more forcefully than anything the weapon could produce.  
  
After cringing in fear momentarily, Bulma squinted and peered into the barrel. "Hmmm, no rifling in there. That's neat. So that thing doesn't shoot bullets. What is it? Lasers? Flame thrower?"  
  
Lunch sighed heavily and threw her arms up in exasperation. She pointed at the pod with her weapon. "Space pod. Door. FIX." She turned the gun back on Bulma, who immediately cringed again. "Or shall I simply find another technician?"  
  
"Ooookay. I guess I'll be taking a look at that door mechanism now," said Bulma as she backed away from the gun brandishing woman.  
  
Kuririn could tell the scene was getting tense. He looked over at Muten Roshi and marveled at the fact that the old man was still ogling over the prospect of a real life catfight starting right outside his front door.  
  
Muten Roshi noticed Kuririn looking at him and winked. "Hey, too bad Oolong took off to the city for the day, I bet he'd really get a kick out of this. We got any jello in the cupboard?" he whispered. "Maybe enough to make several gallons?"  
  
"I don't think so," Kuririn whispered back. "If we're looking for something useful in the kitchen, how about concentrating on finding some pepper before we're all the victims of a mass shooting?"  
  
The tension suddenly was broken by the arrival of Goku. He hopped off the hovering mass that was Kinto'un, grinning widely, oblivious that the situation was not the friendliest in the world.  
  
"Hey, wow Lunch, you look really good for a crash victim," he said as he waved at the blonde. "The way Kuririn talked on the phone, I thought you were in trouble."  
  
Amazingly, Lunch returned his grin. "Hello Goku. Recognize anything?" she asked as she stepped aside to give him a full view of the space pod.  
  
"You didn't think I'd forget you after only a couple of years, did you?" he asked, a slight look of confusion crossing his features. "Like I said, you look great. Kuririn told me you crashed, so I thought you might be hurt. I even brought a senzu bean in case you needed it."  
  
"Well, take my advice, horde up as many of those beans as you can. You're going to need them," she said. "When I ask if you recognize anything, I'm talking about that space pod over there. Look familiar?"  
  
He looked past her at the pod and appeared to be thinking intently. After about a minute he said, "No, that's the first time I've ever seen anything like that before. Did you really come from outer space in that thing?"  
  
She ignored his question and proceeded. "Ever hear of a guy called Kakarott?"  
  
"No. What kind of a silly name is Kakarott, anyway?"  
  
"Never mind." She looked at Goku, tapped on the earpiece of the scouter again and frowned slightly. "The important thing is that the guy who's gonna land here in a couple of months is at least ten times stronger than you are now, Goku. That is, accounting for the assumption that I'd get a much larger reading if you were powered up to full strength." She turned to Kuririn. "I don't see that you've got a chance in Hell of surviving this, cueball," she said sadly. "I'm not even sure Goku can handle it... and if our visitor shows on a full moon, he'll be ten times stronger still."  
  
"We'll just train until this guy shows and then hit him together. It sounds like you're predicting one heck of a fight. You didn't think that we'd just give up?" asked Goku. "Besides, I'm a little more than curious about what a guy so strong has got to dish out," he said optimistically. "It's actually kind of exciting. Why does the full moon make him stronger, anyway?"  
  
"Because on a full moon..." Lunch paused recognizing the look of connections rapidly being made crossing Bulma's features and decided maybe she had better not go into a description of the Ozaru transformation. Besides, that would only lead to more questions ultimately ending with the divulgence that it was Goku's own brother that intended to destroy them all. Knowing Goku, he'd give pause to outright killing his own brother, and Lunch knew he was going to have to be ruthless if he was even going to have a chance. "Hopefully we won't have to worry about all that. Just remember this is going to make your fight with Ma Junior look like a schoolyard spat." She finished, and then abruptly returned to the house.  
  
It wasn't long before Bulma followed her. She was back in the kitchen, this time guzzling water one glass after another. Bulma gave her a questioning glance.  
  
"Stasis. Seems to drain all the moisture out of you..." She explained.  
  
"Um," Bulma wasn't quite sure where to even begin. "I gather from what you're describing that we're to expect a guy with a monkey tail to show up here in three months, right? Meaning that Goku, who used to have a monkey tail and turn into a large, disgruntled ape at a full moon, is actually an alien?"  
  
"Yup," Lunch replied between gulps of water, "that about sums it up."  
  
"So what are you planning to do with the spaceship? Ride off into the sunset while everybody else gets clobbered?"  
  
"Well, at least one of us should survive and it IS my ship."  
  
"What? By the rules of grand theft UFO? If you want me to fix that thing, fine, but I'm getting my dad out here to take a look at it. Maybe he can at least put together a larger working prototype in time..."  
  
Noticing the suddenly sullen look on Lunch's face, she trailed off. "You don't think any of us are gonna make it, do you?"  
  
Lunch turned away from her and pretended to stare out of the small kitchen window. Bulma, finally at a loss for words, went to contact her father and get back to the space pod.  
  
It wasn't long before both Bulma and Dr. Briefs were completely absorbed in the space pod. Lunch took the opportunity and tiptoed out to the copter Bulma had neglected to return to its capsule. She was at optimum altitude before Bulma noticed the copter speeding off towards the west.  
  
Not long after that the phone started ringing. Kuririn answered it. Ten was on the other end of the line. "When you said Lunch had come back, you weren't kidding. Back with a vengeance is more like it."  
  
"Yeah, about that," said Kuririn. "Maybe you'd better start thinking about some hard training. She says we're about to get a close encounter that is not going to be of the friendly sort."  
  
"Oh really? Have you seen the news? Turn on the TV."  
  
"Ok. Hang on." Kuririn switched on the small TV and tuned it to the news channel. A reporter was standing in front of a pile of smoking rubble identified as the Museum of Antiquities in the Western capital. He was describing the scene of destruction, theft, and carnage perpetrated by an unknown female assailant.  
  
Kuririn got back on the phone. "Oi. Vengance. You can say that again."  
  
"No, unfortunately the next words out of my mouth were going to be somewhere along the lines of 'bloodbath.' What's gotten into her, Kuririn? She used to occasionally go off all half cocked, but this is well over the top."  
  
"I'm still not sure, Ten. I guess three years in space can drive a person a little batty – especially if they had, well, you know, problems, to start out with." Kuririn found himself shrugging heavily as he spoke.  
  
"Well, listen. Chao-tzu says I already know where to find her. Maybe if I go and talk to her we can get a handle on all of this before more people get hurt."  
  
"I don't envy you having to run damage control on this. When you figure out what's going on, meet me and Goku back here at Kame House. We're going to have to be more than diligent if we're going to be ready for the fight Lunch talked about."  
  
"I'll be there." Tenshinhan hung up the pay phone and looked back over his shoulder at Chao-tsu. "You'd better let me take care of this alone," he told the small emperor.  
  
"Don't forget," Chao-tsu held up a small bouquet of flowers, "these might make this easier."  
  
"As I recall, I don't have anything to apologize for..." Ten started. Chao-tsu winked and pointed at the sorry looking bouquet. Ten looked a little closer at the flowers and recognized them as ragweed. "OK, then here goes," he said as he crossed the street to the hole in the wall on the wrong side of the West capital that Lunch liked to think of as a bar.  
  
--  
  
She was staring at the empty shot glass, trying to keep from thinking about the leather bag on the stool next to hers. She decided that one more quick peek would satisfy the impending feeling of dread that hung over her. She opened the bag just enough to let a feeble bit of light fall on the contents. Piccolo Daimao's hateful, wrinkled face, exquisitely carved in jade, stared back at her from the interior of the bag. She shuddered and quickly shut the bag again, reminding herself that it was indeed only a statue, and that she had lasted much longer in her recent lot in life than the Demon King himself might have.  
  
She held up a finger as the bartender went past, indicating her need for a refill. Ten year old scotch. She thought to herself how ironic it was that she had spent the past three years believing she would do almost anything for just a nip of the stuff, and now it just didn't seem to taste so good.  
  
The bartender refilled her empty glass, and then the most curious thing happened. When Lunch got a clear view of the mirrored wall behind the bar, there was a young, dark haired woman looking back at her from the seat the leather bag was sitting in. Lunch blinked, looked at the bag, then back at the mirror. The young woman was still there.  
  
"And I bet you'd about kill for an Arlian ale right about now, huh?" Sneered the dark haired woman from the other side of the mirror. "But you had to go and stir everything up."  
  
Lunch blinked again, looked down at the bag on the stool, looked at the empty shot glass, made eye contact with the bartender and held up her hand to indicate that she was ready for her tab, and only then looked back up at the mirror. The dark haired woman grinned. "And, just think, all these people would have another full year to live, none the wiser. But, no. You had to bring it all crashing down around their heads just so you could put another notch in your belt. What you were offered wasn't so very bad was it? "  
  
"He'd have killed you," Lunch quietly hissed back at the image in the mirror while she picked up the paper tab from the bar.  
  
"No thanks to you," the voice went on, even as Lunch looked down to retrieve some money out of her pocket. "You could have lived well on the scraps of a trader's salary, but you're just to good for all of that, aren't you?"  
  
"I'll be no one's slave, least of all yours," she growled under her breath as her gaze went back up to the mirror. She started as she was confronted by a different reflection staring back at her.  
  
"Ten!" she gasped as he handed her the forlorn looking flowers. "I swear I was going to drop you a line or something, I just ha...ha... aaaa...choo!" 


	3. Pit Stop in a Star's Orbit

A/N: belated but much needed disclaimer: I don't own DBZ or most of the characters contained herein. Just giving a couple underrated ones 15 minutes. Thanks to Akira Toriyama for writing the original Dragonball.  
  
-- Ransom Due: Chapter 3: Pit Stop in a Star's Orbit  
  
Lunch regarded the now smiling Tenshinhan with relief. It seemed like she'd been waiting for an awful long time to get out and be in control. She realized suddenly that maybe she shouldn't be so relieved to see Ten. She was assaulted by a sudden wave of guilt for what had gone on earlier at the Antiquities Museum. She was only aware of a few moments of what had actually happened. She hadn't yet become skilled enough at watching 'the other' to grasp more than short flashbacks, but she'd seen enough to know that it was entirely possible that Ten had found her for the express purpose of hauling her off to jail... or worse, and she knew she deserved it.  
  
"My goodness, a little stuffy in here, huh?" she asked, feigning a bright smile while she tried to shake off the feeling of being sick with herself. Then the realization dawned on her that she did have a bag with her that contained an item she would probably have been afraid to look at for too long, let alone steal it from a public museum. Perhaps there had been no other way to get it. The statue was intensely guarded due to rampant superstition about the late Piccolo Daimao, and the guards undoubtedly had been instructed to use deadly force if necessary during such a robbery. She unconsciously reached over and put her hand on the leather bag, while reaching into a pocket in the denim vest she was wearing to retrieve a handkerchief. She momentarily wondered where 'the other' had gotten the clothes to change into, and where she'd left the stolen armor she last remembered wearing. She could feel another sneeze coming on even though she'd dropped the ragweed flowers when she'd sneezed the first time. 'Oh, no, not now you don't,' she thought. She forced out a giggle and another grin. "What brings you to this old dump?" she managed to ask Ten, and batted her eyelashes a couple of times for good measure.  
  
"Well, I heard that you've had quite a 'vacation' from us these last few years. Kuririn mentioned some of the guys getting together over at Kame house, and I thought maybe you'd want to come along and tell us about what you've been up to." He smiled broadly this time, and she could have sworn all three eyes had a mischievous, yet seldom seen, twinkle in them.  
  
It had slipped her mind that as far as anyone on earth knew she wasn't conscious of what went on while 'the other' was in control. It was still obvious that he was telling a half-truth, she didn't remember anything about being at Kame House earlier, but she knew she'd landed the stolen space pod as close to the island as she possibly could. She looked him over. The past few years of peace had treated him well. He had chosen to wear the same wide collared tunic that he'd worn to the last Tenka'ichi Budokai she had the pleasure of attending. Undoubtedly he was wearing his usual fighting gi underneath it, but it was still somewhat flattering that he had dressed up a little just to come out to catch up with her. He was still handsome as all get out, too, but this didn't strike her in the same way it always used to. It had been a long time, and too much had changed. Plus, she couldn't shake the feeling that she was talking to a dead man. Perhaps those people at the museum had just gotten an early admission to the afterlife, anyway. She knew that it was going to take little short of a miracle for her old friends to beat Raditzu, and after that, somebody stronger would just pick up where he left off.  
  
"I'm sorry, Ten. I can't go to Kame House with you right now," she said. "I have a very important appointment to keep as a matter of fact." She wondered briefly if 'the other' had left the scouter wherever the armor had been deposited. Unfortunately, she had no idea where that might be. She drew the leather bag into her lap. Ten looked at her questioningly as she opened it slightly and peered in. Only the jade statue was contained therein. "Actually, maybe you could help me?" She flashed him another bright smile despite another wave of guilt for involving him in such a plan.  
  
"I see no harm in helping an old friend," he replied.  
  
"Even if it sounds crazy?"  
  
He looked at her questioningly, and then cracked a little half grin. "It's been a while, but I'm still apt to expect 'crazy' when it comes to you. What exactly do you require help with?"  
  
"You can sense unusually high kis, right? I just need you to locate Ma Jr. and take me to him, that's all."  
  
All three eyes widened dramatically. "What?!"  
  
--  
  
Raditzu was a little over half the distance to Chikyuu when he was jolted out of stasis. The warp engines on the pod had failed and the alternate systems had automatically taken the craft into orbit around the nearest star and opened solar panels to recharge them. He irritably peered out the porthole, cursing Kakarott again for having sent him the errant slave. He noted several pockmarks in the padding that covered the interior of the pod, obviously caused by some hopelessly primitive projectile weapon. The slave had damaged the pod long before it had ever reached the asteroid field that was once Vegetasei. A routine patrol had come upon the drifting pod that had taken itself 'home' on autopilot. Because the computer logs indicated that the pod belonged to a 'son of Bardock, third class Saiya-jin Commander,' and the patrol was either too stupid or lazy to figure out the 'Kakarott' part in the logs, they dropped the pod and its contents off on Missionary.  
  
The thing was nothing but trouble from the start. Freiza ended up killing the entire patrol because they never even bothered to report finding the pod. When he found out about it, he'd demanded that Raditzu send the logs, so it wasn't long before he knew that there was yet another Saiya-jin somewhere in the universe. He had allowed Raditzu to keep the slave and added Chikyuu to the Missionary's roster of planets to sweep, on the condition that Raditzu would get more information about his 'long lost little brother' out of the slave. He made a point over the fact that Saiya- jins were not known for taking prisoners, that the whole situation was 'highly irregular,' and that he expected it to be handled with the discrepancy of an enlisted officer.  
  
The slave, a dark haired female humanoid of petite build, claimed she had no memory as to how she got into the pod. Her explanation for that had been something he didn't quite understand about changing personalities. He had never heard of such a thing, as well traveled as he was. For her part she said she'd never heard of Kakarott, and that Chikyuu was still full of living people. He suspected that all or at least part of what she had told him was lies. He intensified his interrogation with threats of violence, but it never even got interesting, partly because the thing was obviously so terrified it would say anything he pressed it to, partly because any physical threat he could come up with would result in its expiration and render it useless for information. The thing looked like it would kill over if he so much as put his hands on it. Not that that stopped him from doing so. He'd resorted to picking the thing up by its ankle and carefully shaking it. He ended up getting two separate stories besides the first one before he decided he'd better quit before the thing broke. It was swearing through tears and screams at this point that his brother had figured to let him know he was alive by sending it because he thought he might be in need of a cook. He was actually amused a bit by the last part as he hadn't bothered having much of what he ate cooked in a long time, simply out of convenience. He went ahead and assigned the slave to the ship's galley, figuring that he'd eventually make sense out of what had happened to his brother and the planet he was supposed to have purged.  
  
Although Freiza had added the Chikyuu mission to the ship's roster, it still wasn't of enough import to the tyrant for it to be high in priority by any means. By its position on the roster, it would be quite awhile before Missionary was even in that sector of space. He had plenty of time to figure out just what to do with the delicate slave.  
  
For the first while, he could have almost been pleased that he had ended up with the slave. It turned out that she was a very good cook, if one could disregard the fact that at least half of what she made would have poisoned a being with a lesser constitution. He found himself eating more, if that was possible. Eventually Daax ordered that the slave cook his meals as well. The slave was compliant and obedient, even surprisingly pleasant at times despite the fact that he treated it as unsympathetically as possible. In the beginning, because of the suspicious nature of his procurement of the slave, he had wanted to keep an eye on it. He'd given it a space on the floor in the corner of his barracks to sleep in, but having to keep the gravity so low in his room was an annoyance he wasn't going to deal with in the long run. Artificial gravity sucked in his opinion, anyway. It wasn't long before he gave it one of the small compartments on the lower decks of the ship known as coffins. These were niches that offered only enough space for one to lie down in, hence the name. Most of the enlisted troops, indentured servants and slaves all of them, slept in such quarters.  
  
The slave had also come in handy for taking care of the tedious tasks that went along with being sub-commander of a ship of Missionary's size, necessary paperwork and the like. It gave him an awful lot more time for training, which he figured was never wasted time. He had more sparring sessions with Captain Daax during this time than his whole tenure on Missionary. Granted, he ended up in the regen chamber twice as much as before, but this had only served to make him stronger. It was when he got out of regen on one occasion that the next headache associated with the slave became evident. By that point, the slave had been taking care of many of his domestic needs, including bringing him a fresh set of armor and a clean undamaged uniform when he awakened from regen. This time, the slave arrived as usual, and was handing him clean things to wear when one of the bracers that were a part of the armor he wore dropped to the floor and slid under the bench he was sitting on. The slave went to pick it up, apologizing profusely as she did so. She had her head all the way under the bench looking for it and was in mid sentence when she sneezed loudly. When she came up from under the bench, he was surprised to see that she had undertaken a transformation, but he didn't have much time to think about it. Even he was taken aback at the speed with which the slave positioned herself in what he would later realize was the best place to have the strategic upper hand in the sparse room. She still faced him, but was close enough to the exit port that she would have had a chance to take off unhindered on Missionary's mid decks, had he been of a race as weak as her, anyway.  
  
"Where the fuck am I, and who in the hell are you?" the slave had growled. He'd have laughed at the juxtaposition of the harsh voice coming from a being he had become accustomed to as docile, but he didn't even get that far before he was pelted with a barrage of ineffective, stinging projectiles. Somehow, the now blonde slave had managed to sneak one of her primitive weapons aboard his ship, and she dared to discharge the thing in his direction. He shook quite a quantity of lead bullets from his hair and dropped the handful he had managed to catch. The slave's features registered alarm for a split second before she made for the door. He was much faster than she could fathom, and had blocked her escape before she had gotten halfway down the short corridor. He efficiently put her into a painful chokehold that he hoped would not result in a broken neck.  
  
"Are you finished?" he'd asked menacingly. The slave had hardly stopped for a breath between her curses, and continued to struggle and kick at him despite his obvious physical advantage. He dragged it to its coffin and deposited it there, locking the portal. He was going to have to reassess his handling of the slave.  
  
The transformation had surprised him. He had reviewed the information the planet trade had on Chikyuu, and none of it indicated that the population was capable of transformation. He had also double-checked the slave's stats with his scouter, and it had gained almost twenty points to its power level with the transformation. It was still negligible in terms of his own strength, but the oversight was definitely worth noting. Now the slave's explanation of having no memory of how she'd gotten into Kakarott's space pod made some sense, at least. Lower level Saiya-jins without the proper training were known to suffer memory loss during the Ozaru transformation. No doubt this was a similar occurrence. He surmised that he might get some useful information if he resumed interrogations.  
  
His captain, on the other hand, had other ideas. Ever the pragmatist, Daax had become aware of the 'incident' in the regen banks, and had begun to calculate what he, as senior officer, could perhaps gain from the turn of events. The captain was always looking for some way to make Missionary look better in terms of the trade's primary mission. He was constantly obsessed with the statistics of planets cleared by crew from Missionary as they measured up to other units working for House Freiza. Missionary always had to be at least in the top five performers or Daax would sack the whole crew, minus high ranking officers specifically assigned by Freiza – which meant everybody on board except Raditzu. Missionary may not have always been in the top five as far as planets purged, but was consistently in that league when it came to the attrition rate of the crew. Raditzu had often wondered if this was a quirk attributed to Daax's race. He was of the same race as Dodoria, and looked very much like Freiza's errand boy. As strong a fighter as Daax was, Raditzu was under the impression that he'd rather be sitting on the bridge of Missionary reviewing 'the numbers,' or hanging around other members of House Freiza's court and gloating about the stats, than getting out into a good fight.  
  
It had only been a couple of hours since the incident, and Daax had caught up with Raditzu on one on the training decks. Raditzu had been doing some katas to try and clear his mid some so that he could figure out an efficient way to interrogate the slave without killing it. His gut reaction was to simply dispatch the thing, but for some reason the fact that his little brother might have been alive had been nagging at him. Under other circumstances, this wouldn't have made much difference to him one way or the other, but now he was only one of three, and he wasn't exactly on great terms with the other two. Daax interrupted and asked him if he wanted to spar a bit. He should have known that it was only an excuse to weasel his way into a discussion about crew performance.  
  
Daax started by coming at him fast and popping off successive jabs, all of which Raditzu either dodged or blocked, whereupon he responded with a volley punches and kicks. He found sparring with Daax especially frustrating because the man was simply such a large target that there always seemed to be somewhere he was leaving wide open to attack, but he was so powerful that most of the blows that landed did little if any damage. Raditzu noticed one of these openings and swung a powerful uppercut to Daax's chin. The punch connected, sending the large pink head back with its momentum, when suddenly Raditzu found his legs kicked out from under him. He landed hard on his back. Daax offered his hand to help him up, which of course he immediately slapped away and then kicked out as he rose back to a standing position, sending the captain careening across the room.  
  
"Heard you had some troubles today." Daax commented as he came at Raditzu again, this time appearing behind the Saiya-jin and punching at his ribs. He landed one well-placed blow but Raditzu was able to grab his wrist and pull him around to where he could land another punch to the captain's jaw.  
  
"You could say that."  
  
The captain took a step back rubbing his jaw in mock annoyance. In the same motion he extended his hand to fire off a ki blast at his opponent. "Heard your charge had enough moxie to discharge a weapon at you."  
  
Raditzu stepped to the side of the ki blast and smacked it back at his attacker, following up right behind it with a blast of his own. "And I suppose you think that amusing?"  
  
Daax blocked both energy blasts in a blistering explosion, returning to his stance as the smoke cleared. "Actually we could use someone like that on the front lines occasionally. Most of these mooks don't have quite the death wish they used to. I'm interested to see if it can perform low level purging duties. I like soldiers who shoot first and ask questions later, and right now our numbers are down because of the near failure by the low class grunts to purge planet Rajt."  
  
By now Raditzu had let his aura flare out. Daax took this as a signal to initiate another attack. He rushed the Saiya-jin again and the two became locked in a high-speed exchange of punches and kicks. "I told you that planet Rajt should have been left to me. What the hell are you suggesting, anyway?" Raditzu asked between blocking a parrying, "that we put my domestic slave in with the enlisted?"  
  
One of Daax's punches got through his defenses, sending him flying backward, but he righted himself and flew upward, slinging another blast of ki energy at the captain as he went.  
  
Daax sent a blast to meet it, and the two energy balls collided with a bang. The two struggled for control of the mass of energy, but eventually Raditzu was overcome by the other man's sheer strength. He quickly strafed in midair, the blast just barely grazing him before exploding on the shielded wall of the training deck.  
  
"Why not?" Daax yelled up to him. "I figure that'll solve one of your problems. Think of it this way. Most of those guys are lucky to make it back from their first mission. It'll probably get itself killed, and you can wash your hands of the matter. You're going to end up on that backwater your brother went to anyway. Freiza asks any questions and you can claim you were just following orders."  
  
"Heh. Like that'll make a difference if he really has it out for me," Raditzu yelled back as he checked his tail was wrapped securely around his waist so that the beefy captain wouldn't be able to get his hands on it. Then he flew at his opponent. Daax prepared to block a punch, but Raditzu surprised him by getting him into a grapple hold and forcing him to the opposite wall of the deck. "You just know all this sparring is making me stronger and you're starting to feel threatened."  
  
Daax jabbed his elbow into the rib he'd punched previously and used the leverage of his weight to grind it in and get the upper hand on the Saiya- jin. He pinned Raditzu to the floor. "Hardly. Just thought it might be interesting. Tell you what. Squad 57 is training in weaponry two decks down right now. Let's take it down there and see how it performs. Just for laughs. Or I could send you to the regen chamber and we'll forget all about it."  
  
Raditzu finally conceded to Daax's idea because now that the slave was grounded anyway, he would have to catch up on some ships logs. Now he didn't have time for another few hours in regen. -- To be continued...  
  
A/N: chaosbardock, thanks for another review. Tried to drop a little more action into this one, the story still hasn't really got all the set up finished yet. The flashback was way too long for one chapter, hopefully in the next I'll get to a tournament on Freiza Planet #75 and Vegeta and Nappa will make an appearance. Your idea sounds interesting but this story isn't going in that particular direction.  
  
Let me know if I did OK writing the action, especially with dialogue thrown in like that. Also I'm begging to get some advice as to getting some of these supporting characters IC as best as possible, I'm particularly uncomfortable with Tenshinhan and that damn Chao-tzu is tough to write! 


	4. Repo Man

A/N: Yay! another review. Thanks, Mali for your encouragement.

Didn't get as far as I would've liked to in this chapter, but I'm updating anyway since I actually have readers.

Ransom Due: Chapter 4: Repo Man

_"Life of a repo man's always intense."_ – Harry Dean Stanton as Bud – "Repo Man"

=== 

Raditzu had headed back down to the lower decks to retrieve the slave from its coffin. He wrenched open the portal, reached in and grabbed the slave by the hair at the nape of her neck and hauled her out. She stood before him, arms crossed over her chest, and eyed him suspiciously.

"You could have at least knocked. Maybe a little warning next time, hmm?" she said casually, as if she _weren't_ less than dirt on the heel of his boot.

"Silence!" barked, Daax, as if it were _his_ slave to bark orders at. "You will follow us to the training deck for weapons practice. Move." He shoved the slave ahead of them him in the narrow corridor.

Raditzu had been mildly annoyed with the way things had progressed, but his temper had worsened significantly when he'd suddenly gotten the distinct feeling that he was somehow already being edged out of the loop by both the captain and the slave. On top of that, he felt a slight twinge of possessive resentment towards the captain for making decisions about his property when realistically what happened to the slave really shouldn't have made a difference to him. At that point she was attempting to look back over her shoulder around the bulk of the captain. She momentarily made eye contact with Raditzu.

"So, ah, Boss…" she said, apparently addressing him. "You mind telling me at least some of the basics, like where I am?"

Before he could reply, Daax shoved her ahead again and answered for him.

"As you already know, you are aboard Freiza Galactic Unit 133, affectionately known as Missionary. Because you demonstrated proficiency with a weapon earlier, you will join squad 57 at weapons training. The squad is currently running through a purging simulation."

They reached an intersection in the corridor. Daax snatched the slave's wrist and pulled her towards Raditzu before he veered off down the corridor that led to the lift to the observation deck.

"Have it prepped and send it into the weapons deck. Meet me on observation," he ordered stiffly as he went, leaving the flustered Saiya-jin and his charge in his wake.

The thing was still disrespectfully looking him directly in the eye. Her own eyes, which had become a deep green with her transformation, wandered down to his tail, which had started flicking behind him with his agitation. Her face registered recognition at the sight of it.

"Heh, so you are familiar with Kakarott," he remarked as he led her to the weapons locker. He stopped abruptly and grabbed her by the scruff of her neck again. "You're probably going to get killed at this little exercise, so you might as well come clean about how you came to be in my brother's spacepod."

"What did the twit tell you? I suppose whatever it was wasn't very convincing…"

He shook her. "Was his mission successful?" He growled.

            "You mean… purging? Yeah, your brother's a real powerhouse, I can say that much." She winced, but looked him in the eye, again. "So if I'm going to be joining up here and doing some purging, what's the payoff?"

            "You get to live. Why did he send you?" He emphasized the question by shaking her again, this time a little harder.

            She snorted. "Har! If you call this living." He gripped the back of her neck harder, even as he marveled at the fragility of the muscles there. She dared to meet his gaze yet again, her eyes snapping mischievously.  "You could say we're… close. I've known your brother since he was a kid. He sent me 'cause he knows I'm the best, why else?"

            He wasn't sure he believed her, but she seemed to at least know who Kakarott was. He pulled her closer and took on a more intimate tone. "I'm scheduled to purge Chikyuu if it hasn't been already and draft Kakarott into the planet trade. If you live until that time and your race still lives, I promise I'll let you witness their destruction." He pushed her on to the weapons locker and opened it. He shoved a standard issue blaster pistol and chest armor at her and pointed her in the direction of a solitary portal opposite the locker. "That's the prep room, get ready and go on through to the training deck. I'll be watching you so don't do anything stupid."

-^-^-^

            When he reached the observation deck, Daax was sipping a glass of greenish colored wine and surveying the scene in the training room below. He nudged Raditzu with his elbow in the same rib he'd almost shattered earlier. "This ought to be at least somewhat interesting, breaks up the monotony of travel, eh?"

            Raditzu only grunted in reply. Below, squad 57 had split into two groups, each including approximately 50 grunts. One group had taken the defensive role and was currently trying to evade the other group by using the simulated city walls and buildings. All had been issued scouters, but they probably were useless for the most part because the majority of their ki signatures would hardly register on the instrument. All blasters were live in these simulations and Raditzu knew that standard practice put the better performing soldiers in the offensive role. Those with unsatisfactory performance were always relegated to the defensive role, and many of them wouldn't leave the training room alive. A quiet tension permeated the scene as soldiers tried to outwit each other. From observation, Raditzu could see that the defensive group had planned a strategy involving snipers posted in several key positions along the simulated rooftops and a reserve group that he assumed would blitz the offensive when they wandered into the range of the sniper fire. Two of the offensive scouts were just about to do so when he saw the slave open the portal to the training room. It was camouflaged as a door in one of the buildings behind the position of the assembled group of defensive soldiers who were ready to rush out and overrun the offense. Her entrance startled several of the grunts. Inevitably, at least one of them started shooting at her. Then all hell broke loose.

            The forward snipers had spotted the offensive scouts and shot them down. He observed, unimpressed at the display so far, as part of the defensive reserve acted according to plan and rushed the advancing offensive. About ten of the rear defensive troops were dealing with the slave, who was using the portal door as cover and spraying the group with blaster fire. It seemed her first efforts with the energy weapon were clumsy, but after only a few misdirected shots, she managed to take down the first five grunts in the group raining fire on her position. She suddenly scurried out from behind the portal door and rolled across to the next building's entrance. She fired off a volley of blasts mid roll. He found himself intrigued by the fact that the pistol had already become an extension of her form, any adjustment she'd had to make to compensate for differences in the weaponry she was used to had been efficiently employed. She reached the far corner of the building and pressed herself to the wall as blaster fire shattered simulated masonry. She shimmied around to the door, but one of the grunts, a squat, dog-headed humanoid, had flanked her and popped out from around the opposite corner behind her, firing. She hit the ground again, blaster fire grazing the wall she had been up against. Dust sifted down from the singed wall, and she suddenly sneezed, triggering her transformation.

            The transformed slave dropped the pistol as if it were a hot coal. Luckily the dust had obscured her enough that the advancing grunt could only take pot shots in the direction of her position and hope he would hit the target. Suddenly the slave sneezed again, this time in a rapid succession that left her in the stronger manifestation of her transformation. She immediately snatched the pistol up and rushed the advancing grunt, dodging his random fire. She made short work of her advance having taken the grunt aback by her initiative. She kicked out and flipped, snapping her feet at the grunt's weapon and knocking it loose. She followed up her landing with a shot at point blank range, which ripped through the dog-headed grunt's abdomen. She pulled the body in front of her as it collapsed, using it to absorb another volley of fire from the remaining grunts. Raditzu watched, not knowing whether to be impressed or dumbfounded by her actions. For a moment it appeared that she was intentionally drawing fire from the small group of soldiers that had stayed behind against orders to deal with her. However, from his position on the observation deck, it quickly became evident that she was positioning herself between the smaller group and the larger contingent that was locked in battle with the oncoming offensive. She skimmed along the wall of the building until she reached the door and then turned her blaster fire on to some of the unsettled masonry nearby, again cloaking her position with dust. Blaster fire from the rear group of defensive soldiers ripped through the dust cloud and into the backs of their comrades. Raditzu watched the defensive contingent start to fall apart as about half of the grunts in the main defensive thrust turned their attention and blaster fire on whoever was shooting at them from the other side of the dust cloud. A blind firefight erupted between the two groups of defensive soldiers. The slave, who had one foot in the door of the building, had gone into another sneezing fit that seemed to have left her in the weaker mode of her transformation. Raditzu squinted as he tried to discern what was going on within the cloak of dust. The slave lurched as she apparently realized she was gripping a corpse in front of her. She stared in confusion and terror at the crossfire erupting in front of her as she pushed the body away from her and instinctively clutched the pistol closer. The dust had almost settled and would reveal her position to all of the troops momentarily. She suddenly sneezed once more, and when the dust shifted again she was gone, having retreated inside the simulated building.

            Raditzu turned his attention to the main group of combatants. The offensive group had been pared down by sniper fire, but the defense had ended up with substandard snipers, so they were nowhere near as effective as they should have been, and the offensive was slowly overtaking and advancing on the defense. Meanwhile the slave appeared on the roof of the building she'd entered. She kept herself pressed to the roof tiles and paused, seeming to aim at the sniper on the rooftop of the next building. He would've been out of range for an unskilled gunman, but after a minute of peering through the pistol's sights, she tore off a shot that hit it's intended target in the shoulder, causing the sniper to drop his weapon. Before he could react any further, she let off another blast that hit him squarely in the head. The sniper's body collapsed, rolling off the edge of the roof and plummeting to the ground below. The slave was already moving, navigating the roof at breakneck speed, she sprinted to the roof's edge and pushed off, just barely clearing the distance to the eaves of the roof the sniper had been positioned on. She clawed at the shingles, dropping the pistol, and managed to pull herself up and over the slight overhang of the roof. Within moments she reached the sniper's former position and was shouldering the rifle. She positioned herself low to the roof, and systematically shot down the rest of the snipers. Only one had managed to fire upon her, but missed the shot. Next she turned her attention to the melee below. The few defensive soldiers that remained went down one after the other. It seemed she handled the rifle effortlessly, without any sign of the learning curve that had been evident in her handling of the pistol. Two thirds of the offensive remained when it was all over with.

The defensive team was decimated, and Daax seemed more than pleased with the weeding out of substandard grunts. Raditzu generally found watching this sort of combat boring, but was piqued by the exercise. He wasn't completely sure that he should view the slave's apparent skill in low powered, weapons oriented battle as a positive thing. Daax genuinely enjoyed it. He'd been completely entertained and surprised by the slave's performance. He laughed deeply and slapped Raditzu on the back.

            "Well, I hope she still remembers how to cook! Have the slave taken to the med unit and see if there's a way to better control the origin of her transformations. This is worth a few bad meals if need be. We're scheduled to enter orbit of the planet Beliye within 48 standard hours. I believe your slave is ready for a mission." 

            Raditzu grumbled in concurrence and went to retrieve his charge from the prep room.

-^-^-^

            She emerged carrying the armor and blaster. He immediately snatched the weapon from her and locked it in the weapons locker.

            She looked him over again as he did this and said, "Since you seem to be a man of few words, I asked the squad commander about the situation while I was in the prep room. He told me you guys are just a bunch of inter-planetary repo men." She chuckled. "Even though repo man's basically a loser's gig, I guess I can tolerate it for the time being. I can see why your brother isn't in such a hurry to sign up with this outfit."

            "Oh, really? And what exactly is Kakarott doing on your planet that would warrant his not even responding to the destruction of Vegetasei?" he asked as he pushed her again, this time in the direction of the lift so he could deposit her in the med unit.

            "Well, lets see… go running back to a planet which is no more than an asteroid field, to go to work for little if any compensation when one could reign as despot on a perfectly comfortable planet…"

            "What the hell are you talking about?" he growled.

            "Like I said, your brother's one powerful s.o.b. Mean, too. He terrorizes the population of my planet. Once a year he declares 'Kakarott day' and randomly destroys a whole city. He'd wipe the floor with those guys back there," she laughed again.

            As they made their way to the med unit, she continued to weave a tale of the terror and death caused on her planet by his brother. Despite the fact that some of the exploits she described were quite un-Saiyan-like, on the whole, this story was believable. He especially liked the bit where Kakarott had methodically hunted down the strongest martial artists known on her world and exterminated them, leaving the remaining population devoid of much hope of ever escaping his iron grip. It was a story that could almost make him proud of his sibling.

            When they arrived at the med unit, the blue skinned female technician let them in and examined the slave precisely. The slave grudgingly complied, though she continued to scowl at her master. Raditzu ignored her and watched the med tech with feigned interest. He had been particularly pleased with this tech, she was much less presumptuous than the last one that had served on Missionary, and much more pleasing to the eye, at least. She had soft features complemented by the mass of deep blue tentacles that sprouted from her head and framed her face. She had always been properly respectful to commanding officers and addressed Raditzu in kind.

            "Sir, if I may?" she asked, keeping her tangerine colored eyes lowered. He nodded in the affirmative, so she continued. "As the captain described it, the transformative variable is a reaction that occurs within the nasal recesses of this creature. Normally there wouldn't be much I could do, but a collogue recently sent me an experimental serum that deadens specific neural receptors. I may be able to modify the formula slightly to achieve the desired effect."

            "Do it," he barked.

            "Woah… hold on now," the slave started, backing away from the tech," "I'm not gonna let you shoot me up with some experimental…"

            "Hold her still if you don't mind" the med tech interrupted as she picked up a sedative hypo gun. Raditzu easily seized the slave's arms and wrenched them behind her back. He held her wrists with one hand while the other grasped a tuft of her hair and pulled to expose her neck for the med tech to administer the sedative. The slave's struggles abruptly stopped and she went limp with the injection.

            "When can I expect it to be ready for regular duties?" he asked.

            "Well," the med tech replied, "one of two things could happen. Within, say, an hour or two I'll return it and you will have a modicum of control over the transformations. Or, the serum won't work properly and her brain will succumb to meltdown."

            "Fine. I'll expect to see you in two hours," he said, intoning that failure was really not an option.

^=^=^=

            True to her word, the technician arrived at his barracks with a vial containing what she explained was a particular histamine which she'd isolated from the formula. All he would have to do is open the vial within a couple of meters of the slave if he wanted to trigger the transformation.

            "And where is the slave?" he asked.

            "I left her in her quarters, sir. I thought…" the tech began nervously.

            "Whatever," he grunted. "Return to your post," he ordered as he headed off towards the lower decks to test the effectiveness of the vial.

            He'd found the slave's coffin empty, but was drawn by the sound of voices at the end of the corridor where there was a small common room. Upon entering he found the slave engaged in a wagering game popular among the infantry with a deep blue skinned alien he recognized as squad 57's commander and two humanoid aliens, both of which looked like they had just had the tar beaten out of them. One of them had a black eye. He was folding his cards when Raditzu entered. The slave laughed and began collecting the pool of bar chits in the middle of the table, oblivious to the fact that the others had nervously stood at attention when they became aware of the sub commander's presence.

            "What the hell happened to them?" he asked, indicating the two injured men.

            "Sir," began the commander. "There aren't exactly a lot of female enlistees and I suppose these two crackers figured they could take out some of their, ah, frustrations on Lunch here. I found them in the middle of getting their asses kicked. It is doubtful such an occurrence would be repeated what with the beating she gave them."

            Raditzu turned a searing gaze on the two battered soldiers. He hardly gave them time to blink before he channeled his anger into a crackling ball of ki and flung it at them. The squad commander and the slave stared slack jawed as the stench of burnt flesh and ozone permeated the small room.

            "Make sure the rest of your squad knows the result of touching my property without my permission," he said to the squad commander in a clipped tone, his annoyance somewhat alleviated.

            "Yes, sir," the commander replied nervously.

            The slave had gone back to collecting the bar chits. He turned his attention to her and grinned slightly. "I was going to order you to carry those for me. I could use a drink or two after the last few hours."

            "Don't I know it," she said. "Are you gonna hit the bar with me, Boss?"

            "No. I'm going to go have a few drinks. You are going to serve the Captain his supper."

            The slave gaped at him incredulously. "I see how it is, take all my winnings for yourself. I'd wager all of those chits you couldn't win them in a fair game."

            He wasn't going to let the slave challenge him in front of the squad commander. "Oh, really?" he sneered. "I'd wager them all that you'll be on your way to the galley within the next five minutes," he said as he uncapped the vial the med tech had given him."

            "Oh yeah? Put your money…" she sneezed powerfully before she could complete her jibe. The transformed slave stood staring at the armload of drink chits she was holding and then looked to Raditzu questioningly.

            "Deposit those in my quarters and then report to the galley," he ordered, his grin broadening slightly.

            "Yes, sir," she said meekly and then scurried off towards the lift to the upper decks.

            Satisfied for the moment, Raditzu dismissed the squad commander and went to report to the captain.


	5. Scratch My Back

Ransom Due – Chapter 5 - Scratch My Back

-----------------------

He thought about the vial. He surmised he'd put too much stock in the control it had afforded him. Perhaps that had been the beginning of the string of mistakes that had ultimately led to the destruction of his ship and the termination of his command. It had seemed such a simple solution to what he'd seen as a potential problem. The small glass tube had contained some kind of colorless oil or liquid, he had been aware of a slight sharp, pungent odor whenever he uncapped it. It had proven effective in the control of the slave's transformations – for a time. Looking back, it seemed that gradually the effectiveness of the solution waned, while spontaneous transformations occurred more often. By the time he had been made aware of ominous implications of the situation, however, it was far too late.

The slave's transformed state proved much stronger in terms of the paltry strength apparent in the race. It also seemed the salve's personality in that condition was characterized by an obstinate bravado that never failed to anger him intensely. In short, the transformed slave bordered on the edge of having a modicum of control over him, rather than the other way around. He had been loathe to be around the transformed slave, but was forced to often enough because Captain Daax saw another skilled gunner in the ranks of Missionary's troops as more of a practical asset than a mere domestic slave was. The captain also apparently found some amusement in the obvious consternation the transformed slave caused Raditzu, who consoled himself with the fact that at least the woman was more forthcoming with information about his brother during times while she was transformed. Unfortunately, his own obstinate and proud nature had allowed him to overlook, once again until it was far too late, the fact that the salve only did this out of the entertainment value his reactions afforded her.

Daax only increased orders to trigger the slave's transformation after the first mission she was deployed on with squad 57 had been a rousing success. For a squad of regular infantry to clear a world so quickly had been almost unprecedented. All reports from the squad commander indicated that the slave, which the entire squad had taken to referring to by her ridiculous given name, Lunch, was not only a master in the handling of munitions of all kinds, but seemed to thrive on the mission itself. He'd even gone so far as to remark that her nature on the battlefield came close to being Siayan-like, a comment for which he'd almost lost his life. As if the scum knew anything about the Saiya-jin, save for rumor and conjecture. In the end Raditzu had let it go because Daax was right – the bump in Missionary's overall statistics due to squad 57's performance as a whole was good for all of them in the long run. It would not do to remove their commander in an untimely manner. After several similar performances by the squad during ensuing months of service, (which seemed to be rubbing off on some of the other infantry divisions aboard Missionary as well) both the Captain and his Sub-Commander were given a nominal raise in their part of the take on the cleared planets. They had even landed themselves a place at the annual tournament on Freiza planet No. 75, which was considered more than a little bit of an honor in the ranks of such roving starships.

The slave had actually had the audacity to start what she referred to as 'casual conversation' one evening over a mug of Arlian ale in the ship's bar. Much to Raditzu's chagrin, her first-rate performance had brought with it more than the occasional bar chit. She had been engaging in 'casual conversation' with a couple of other soldiers from her squad when he entered, but they made as hasty an exit as they could manage upon noticing him. As usual, the slave acted as if no one in particular, let alone her master, had walked in. He made a point of stomping in sanctimoniously, which turned out to be not much of a point at all because the stupid gravity was kept so low on common parts of the ship for the weakling personnel. He opted to glare at her as he sat himself on the stool next to hers. She simply glared back for a moment. Suddenly her face broke into a wide grin, which completely took him aback. It was an expression that he'd never seen cross her features before (at least not up close, he was familiar with this from the first battle simulation with squad 57 – specifically when she'd been picking off snipers like flies.) She produced a bar chit and slapped it down onto the bar pointedly.

"Hey!" she yelled at the bartender. "Give the boss here one of whatever he wants." She then turned back to Raditzu and grinned again. "Consider it a thank-you," she said.

The grin was really closer to a self-important smirk. For the first time he realized that it wasn't just her attitude, but something about her transformed appearance that really unsettled him on some primal level. It seemed as though her eyes, while that strange emerald color, took on some unforgiving viciousness that was positively absent before the transformation. He couldn't put his finger on it, and in truth hadn't really even admitted it to himself, but something about the combination of those eyes and the almost golden colored hair gave him an uneasy feeling that was just… wrong.

"I really think the upgrade in accommodations has been long overdue, considering I've been on good behavior and all, don't you?"

He was only half paying attention to what she'd just said because it had dawned on him that he hadn't triggered the transformation. He'd only just started becoming incredulous about that fact when what she'd said registered.

He tried not to let his temper boil over completely. There were other people in the heavily frequented common space and he really didn't want it to show that his slave had the ability to get under his skin to a large extent. He really didn't want to get chewed out by the Captain for destroying the bar, either. He could tell by the look of the bartender, who'd been waiting patiently for his order, that he was only marginally successful in this. For all that had been Vegetasei, one thing he could admit to himself was that he was terrible at pulling off this sort of bluff.

"The same," he said to the bartender and waved him off without removing his undoubtedly scathing gaze from the slave. "What," he managed to say through gritted teeth, "are you talking about?" She started to say something, but he continued. "And why, pray tell, are you sitting around here… like this? I thought I ordered you in here to have all the glasses and any other utensils cleaned."

"Oh, but I finished that," she said offhandedly. Apparently it was the last thing on her mind. For a moment the grin wavered. "I think?" She turned back to the bartender who had returned with Raditzu's ale. "Hey Chucky, did I clean a bunch of cups an' stuff when I came in here?" she asked.

"Well yeah," the bartender replied assuredly, "every one." The bartender knew better than to address Raditzu without having been asked to, but he continued, obviously for the Sub-commander's benefit. "Like crystal. Every one."

Raditzu turned his glare in the bartender's direction. The bartender immediately scurried back to the storage room on the other side of the bar, outwardly deciding that this particular 'casual conversation' was something he wanted no part of.

"Anyway," she was grinning at him again, "I ain't got much but I figured you scratch my back, I scratch yours, right, Boss?"

How could she possibly go on as though the very air around him wasn't literally crackling with his rage?! He took a deep breath and tried once more to make his point without exploding.

"I gave no authorization for a change in living arrangements…" he began.

The grin crumbled. "Oh… Captain Daax gave the orders and I thought surely they had come through you because… oh." She stared at the remains of her ale for a moment.

"Oh, please, do go on," he said, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "Because?"

"Well, because last I heard I was your responsibility." Her attention snapped from the glass back to him. The audacious glare had returned in full force. "Don't even tell me that El Capitan is in charge of me now because even in alien terms he is just waaay too ugly for me to take all that seriously, know what I mean?"

The absurdity of the situation finally overcame him and suddenly all the anger disappeared, if just for a moment. He suddenly did explode, but uncharacteristically, with a deep, throaty laugh. The very idea that he'd be sitting in a bar on a galactic class starship that he was mostly in command of, discussing the ugliness of his captain (one of Freiza's hand-picked agents) over a beer with a human slave that had somehow come into his possession… the whole thing was just completely bizarre. (Except that Daax was pretty damn ugly, even for his race.) For her part, the slave was totally put off guard by this. He thought she actually jumped off the stool a couple of inches. He finally was gaining the upper hand in this practice of 'casual conversation.' His laughter diminished to a low chuckle and he downed the ale in its entirety, at which point he looked directly at her, anger evident again, and asked, as nonchalantly as he could muster, "so how'd you transform this time?"

Her composure was shot. Looking back he realized that she had more than likely had a lot more than one Arlian ale, which was pretty strong stuff by most race's standards, but at the time he'd been sure that this was a definite victory in whatever game fate had haphazardly thrown him into.

"Oh, that." She cleared her throat and looked back down at the bottom of the glass in front of her. "It really can't be helped. You see it's just always been this way. I drink, she gets to enjoy the lovely parting gift known as a hangover. I'm really sorry, Boss. She's a complete teetotaler and I just can't perform on Shirley Temples and virgin bloodies alone… How could anyone in this place?"

"Well," he replied icily, "what you just said makes little or no sense at all, so let's just head on down to the med unit and continue this discussion with that sorry whelp that calls herself a medical technician, shall we?"

He grabbed a fistful of the distressing blonde hair as he'd come into the habit of doing (he'd figured out that it was one of the few physical options he had without breaking anything, as long as he could manage not to jerk too hard and snap her neck) and forcibly led her out of the bar. He only let her go when they were securely inside the anti-grav lift up to the deck the med unit was located on. Once there, she started talking again.

"Um… there was actually something I've been meaning to ask you about." He smugly reminded himself as he nodded curtly that she still looked somewhat worried at the turn their conversation had finally taken. "This thing on the Freiza planet, they posted a roster that has you and Daax each in a one on one with somebody. The guys in the squad said there's an incentive lottery of sorts, but we're all expected to bid our chits on you guys out of respect and all."

"Uh huh." He was barely paying attention. This was common knowledge and hardly mattered to him. The tournament battles at such events were conventional. There were usually few surprises, the point being that Freiza reinforced the reason he picked who he picked to be responsible for certain things. It was a show of where the already obvious power in the trade was, and little more. Raditzu had actually yet to attend such a function. Rumor had it that the only recent exception to the traditional flow of things had been several of Prince Vegeta's bouts. It was one of the few things he looked forward to witnessing at the event.

"The roster has your power levels and stuff listed right there in black an' white. I figure if you spend a lot of time training before this deal, you could just about catch up to your opponent."

"So what? The up to date power levels are always posted just before the match. My opponent will undoubtedly train as well. Those fights are little more than tradition, there's no real sport in them. Feh!" He actually spat at the floor of the lift just thinking about such a farce being referred to as competition. It was so much of a waste. "Whatever you're thinking about the common bidding pool, forget it. It's little more than a show of tribute from you lowlifes, nothing more."

"But I heard some rumors that there's a bigger pool that the well to do participate in ever since that Prince Something-Or-Other pulled off a couple of upsets, or nearly did, at the last few tournaments."

He raised an eyebrow and perceptibly looked down his nose at her. "That would be Prince Vegeta, and you'd better refer to him as such from now on, especially within his earshot, or you will be killed. Without question.

"He's Saiya-jin, like you, right?"

"Yes," he sighed. This was getting tedious.

"Then perhaps _you_ could pull off an upset…"

"Not likely. Prince Vegeta is potentially the strongest thing in the universe, save for Freiza himself."

"Come on, now. Don't sell yourself short. Besides, you don't have to get _that_ much stronger, just enough to beat your opponent. If you keep your power level down when they run the final scans and during the majority of the match you could totally pull it off. It could prove to be very lucrative for somebody when it's all said and done." She was grinning again as she said this, and actually had the nerve wink at him as she completed the statement.

"Don't be ridiculous. You can't hold down your power level. Even if you could you can't fool the scouters. It's just not possible. The very idea is just stupid, so give it up."

It was her turn to raise an eyebrow. "Oh, really. Funny you should say that because your little brother does it all the time. I hadn't really thought he'd outclassed you all that much. I mean, it seems such a simple thing, I had no idea that you would be unable…"

The lift reached its destination. He resumed his grip in her hair and pushed her forward. "Just shut up. Maybe we have to go over your story as far as just how well you know Kakarott because you ceased to have any credibility the minute you brought up this subject."

"You mean the part about keeping your power level down or the part about not selling yourself short?" He couldn't see it because he was behind her but he just knew she was smirking again. He sharply twisted his grip on her hair. "Ow! Hey, I was just trying to do you a favor, it's your loss if you don't want to listen."

They'd finally arrived at the med unit. He told the tech that the loss of control of the transformations and the steady flow of apparent bullshit was to cease immediately on no uncertain terms, reminding her that med techs were a dime a dozen and she could easily and speedily be retired and replaced at his whim. He was about to stalk out of the room when he turned abruptly and added that errant slaves turned up as little more than organic vapor all the time as well, which also could happen at his whim. Then he stalked out of the room.

-------------------

The medical technician had brought the slave directly to him this time, in its non-transformed state. She explained that the dosage of the original serum had been increased and the oversight on this particular occasion had been a fluke, nothing to really worry about. He had asked about the nonsense that the slave seemed to have come into the habit of spouting as of late, to which she'd replied that whatever memory loss accompanied the transformations must surely be responsible for.

He'd made sure to keep the slave from transforming at all up until just shortly before the next purging mission due for squad 57. It made his life simpler in that he had a lot of backed up logs that had to be filed, and he had wanted more training time. As much as he had brushed off talk about the tournament, it was always better to make a good showing than not, even if you were slated as a looser. Freiza sometimes had particularly poor performers publicly dispatched. To keep things interesting, it was rumored. For this reason, even if there was some kind of rich-man's gambling going on at the tournament, it was unlikely anyone would deliberately throw a fight. The more he thought about it, the more he could see how the idea of an upset would have been an attractive subject for debate by a bunch of infantry that had never thought they'd have had the chance to even see such a tournament. Some of the indentured had relations that actually had some semblance of paltry assets. Such an upset against the odds could indeed make someone more than a few credits. It was something he might have at least debated with himself on doing if it were at all possible, but it just wasn't.

Even still, the nagging supposition that his younger brother may have figured out some technique that would forever elude him began to gnaw at him between training sessions. Finally at one point when he happened upon the slave in the midst of cleaning up in his barracks (he was running low on tasks that would give him an excuse not to let the slave transform, normally he wouldn't have let her into his personal quarters alone) he resurrected the subject.

"You told me a while ago that Kakarott has the ability to…" he'd had to stop for a moment. Something was different about the room. He could clearly see the stars through the two large portholes he was allowed in the upscale quarters, which he'd never particularly noticed before. If he'd had any more skill at navigation, he could have probably charted a course for the ship by the bright pinpoints now visible, albeit tinted a garish green by the color of the glass, which he'd always assumed was just frosted. She was strangely backlit by this and the reflections of the standard lighting in the room, which made her dark hair look almost blue.

"You didn't want those cleaned?… I'm sorry." The slave was looking sheepishly down at her shoes and began wringing the offending washrag still clutched in her hands."

"No," he replied, "it's not that, I just thought… Never mind!" How the hell had she goaded him into conversation again? He actually enjoyed the luxury of having a slave when she wasn't transformed for the very reason that she was unquestioningly obedient, genuinely frightfully cowed in his presence and generally stayed out of his way and kept quiet. "I wanted to know about Kakarott and this technique that masks power levels. How does he achieve this?"

"Well," she looked up at him thoughtfully, but not in a totally disrespectful manner. "He did have a lot of training, but I think the way he described it was that he found the stillness in his heart?… No, wait. It was more like he learned to make his heart still."

"Training? Who of the pitiful population of your planet would be worthy of training a Saiya-jin?" The first part of her statement had captured the entirety of his attention; he didn't even waste time trying to make sense out of the second part yet.

"God." She shrugged and went back to fidgeting with the washrag.

He started laughing, for the second time in only a standard year's passage, as he moved to usher her out of his quarters. "You're clearly pulling my leg again. That's ridiculous." He'd heard of alien cultures that believed in such 'supreme beings' or 'world protectors,' but in all his years of purging planets he'd never seen a shred of evidence to support such mythology.

No, really!" she protested. "I told you he was really strong, didn't I? Surely he's as strong as you, if not more. He only got training from God after he defeated the Devil."

He laughed a little bit more. He found her explanation so preposterous it wasn't worth his getting angry about. By this time he had her securely by the hair and was pushing her towards the portal. "Yeah, sure. With the picture you've painted I'd think he'd want to keep the Devil around just for kicks."

"If you had control over a whole planet, would you want to share it with the Devil?"

This last actually gave him pause. Not only did it make perfect sense, (in terms of a nonsensical argument, anyway) it conformed to his, for that matter any Saiya-jin's base temperament. It was true; if he had claimed something all to himself he wouldn't tolerate sharing it with anybody, not even the Devil if such a thing existed. Case in point, the fact that he hadn't let her transform in so long. He was, among other things, essentially sick of having to share what was his, by all standard rules of the trade, with the Captain and the riff raff that was squad 57. She had also made this last statement and the one before it with a modicum of conviction and assuredness, which seemed to be rare when she said anything in her non-transformed state. She, at least, unquestionably believed these things to be true of his brother.

"Show me." He spun her around to face him and then let go.

She rubbed at the back of her head where he'd had hold. "I…I don't think I'm qualified to provide the caliber of training one would get from God, do you, sir?"

Damn her! She was managing to make him look as if he didn't know the obvious even when she didn't have the snide attitude that came with transformation. He briefly considered tossing her out again, maybe all the way out the nearest airlock, but he'd already allowed himself to get dragged into conversation this far, so he let it go. It would have been a lie if he had claimed his curiosity wasn't piqued. In a place where things tended to follow status quo and nothing else, if it was possible to learn such a technique he'd decided he was going to do just that. "Well, perhaps," he said in an acid tone, "you could start by pointing me in the right direction."

"OK." She took a deep breath. "I believe you would have to start with some kind of intensive meditation. There must be some form with which you are familiar…" The confusion he felt at this statement must have shown because she went on, "… or maybe I should show you one?"

"Fine." He grudgingly stepped aside to give her room to demonstrate whatever it was she had to show.

She moved to the emptiest part of the floor and sat, took another deep breath and upon exhaling closed her eyes, brought her arms to the fore and pressed her fingers together in what looked like the imitation of a pyramid. "And then you would go about the process of clearing your mind. I guess from there you'd have to find your heart and make it completely still, but I really have no idea how it's done, to be honest." Her dark eyes snapped open again and she hopped up off the floor.

"Well?"

"That's it. I really don't know any more…" She looked completely flummoxed.

"I said show me. You only gave instructions."

"I don't… I don't meditate myself. I can't, I mean I'm no good at it." For a moment a look of terror crossed her features that seemed more intense than even the first time he'd interrogated her when she was dropped off on Missionary. She quickly regained her composure, though. "I'd hate to demonstrate the wrong way and get you off on the wrong foot from the start, sir. Maybe you should just give it a try and we can go from there?"

He grunted sharply and took the spot she'd just vacated on the floor. He imitated the process she'd just shown and tried to clear his mind. He heard a strange squeak from her direction. He opened one eye and looked over to find her red-faced, trying desperately to stifle laughter. A growl escaped him as he shot up from the floor and moved in her direction. "You're just doing this because you want to make a fool of me?!"

She scurried behind the nearest piece of furniture, which happened to be his desk, faster than he'd thought she was capable and cowered there. "No, no! Sorrysorrysorrysorry…" She whimpered as she futilely tried to shield herself with the washrag.

Just as he reached the desk he managed to remind himself that what he was about to do would surely kill her and he might never know the proper way to mask his power level if he did that. He stopped a step away from launching himself to the other side. "Am I to assume I'm doing something wrong then?" he asked in as even a tone as he could manage.

Her head tentatively popped up from behind the opposite edge of the desk. "You just looked like it was almost painful for you to do that and I've never seen... You must know how to relax…?"

"Of course," he said, probably too forcefully because her head disappeared behind the desk and under the rag again.

"You have to be completely relaxed and focused when you're doing this or there's no way it will work. I do know that for sure." She spoke so quietly and in combination with the 'protective layer' of washrag covering her he could barely discern it.

"Fine. Come out of there and I'll try it again… as long as you can manage not to mock me." He moved back to the center of the room to let her know it was safe to come out.

She slowly emerged from behind the desk, albeit still on her hands and knees. He went ahead and repeated the motions she had shown him.

"No," she said flatly. She was sitting on the floor on the nearer side of the desk with her arms and the rag wrapped protectively around her knees. "I can tell you're still too rigid." She carefully scooted a little closer to him. "Uh… hold out your arm."

He stuck out the arm nearest to her. She slowly moved closer and went to put her hands around his forearm, but then stopped. "May I?" she gestured towards his arm.

"If you must." He desperately struggled to stave off his exasperation with the way the whole affair was turning out. It was certainly unlike any training he had ever even heard of.

She grasped his arm above the elbow and tried to shake it. Nothing happened. "Are you relaxed now?"

"I'm trying to be."

"Well, stop trying and just do it." She paused for a moment and tried again. This time his arm moved with her efforts. "Now you're moving it on purpose. You have to let it go."

After many, many attempts he finally found his arm hanging limp in her grasp as she moved it. Her grip was more than a little shaky from the scare he'd given her, but to her credit she steadfastly repeated the exercise until he managed this. So many failed attempts at something would have bought him at least more than a few bruises if not broken bones in any training session he'd been familiar with. Any other mentor would have at least given up in irritation if not complete anger. This one seemed to have nothing to offer save for gentle patience. It was truly a wonder anybody on her planet still lived. It was clear none of them would have a chance of survival when he arrived there.

"Good," she suddenly brought him out of his thoughts. He realized she had already released his arm. "Now you can try doing the whole thing."

He once again performed the motions required. He managed to hold the position for a moment when he heard quiet applause from the slave. He opened one eye again and peered at her. "Yay!" she exclaimed "See, that's the easy part."

"I can't possibly clear my mind with you doing that," he hissed.

"OK. It's almost time for me to get into the galley and start fixing the late meal, anyway. Am I dismissed?"

He waved her off in the direction of the portal and began the process again. No sooner had he reached the proper position than she interrupted again.

"Hey, I suppose if you went ahead and put the gravity up where you like it you might have an easier time with that…"

"Fine," he grumbled. He was loosing the relaxed state that he'd worked so hard to achieve, but at least he had some idea of how to reach it again. She started toward the portal again when in a momentary lapse of anything akin to his usual character he told her to wait. He got up and went to the desk and searched around in one of the compartments until he found a long forgotten recreational chit. He tossed it at her. "After you're done in the galley, go do whatever it is you do for recreation… just don't let the Captain see you wandering around aimlessly. Now get out so I can turn the gravity back up."

He thought he saw her smile just a little as she exited through the portal. After it slid shut behind her he was sure he heard her humming to herself as she retreated down the corridor. Yup, he thought, those fools on her planet may as well be dead already. He went to the gravity controls and cranked it up eight clicks. As an afterthought he set his scouter on the desk facing where he was practicing the new technique. After some time, when he felt that he had at least managed to still his mind (he was yet unsure of this business of finding his heart, let alone forcing it still) he scrolled back through the readings on the device. Sure enough, his power level did read five points lower than when he began. This wasn't enough for anyone to believe it was more than malfunctioning equipment, but he knew his scouter was in perfect working condition. He'd just had it overhauled and checked for defects. Surprisingly, the whole cockamamie routine really had something to it. He resolved to continue his efforts indefinitely. He'd make sure Kakarott had as few surprises for him as possible when he finally reached Chickyu.

………………….

He'd eventually learned the technique to sufficiently suppress his ki, and in plenty of time for the tournament. Perhaps it was not mastery; perhaps he would have required training from a God to gain complete mastery. He wasn't even sure that he had properly initiated the process of making his heart still, but after spending literally every free moment in his quarters trying to find stillness specifically, he'd finally found it in the form of a long buried memory. It turned out the technique was similar to what he had experienced so many moons ago, when he had been little more than a gangly adolescent, mere months after having been retrieved from his infant mission. He hadn't even been training when the epiphany of sorts came upon him; in fact, he'd been in the middle of stuffing his face at an early meal, thinking over the process, the idea of making his heart still, when the memory surfaced in auditory form.

"Still yourself!" A direct command, it had seemed he'd heard it as clearly as so long ago, just as spoken in the gritty baritone of his mother's voice in ozaru form. The memory unfolded from there in intense clarity; a desolate, ruined planet with its battered, dim moon and the almost perfect quiet that had come with his first taste of self recognition in the form of the great ape. This particular memory of his mother in ozaru form was actually the clearest one he possessed of her. Training a novice ozaru to gain control was one of the few duties required of female Saiya-jin in regards to their offspring. Pod technology had made even providing sustenance to infants obsolete, allowing females to be almost completely unfettered by their young and able to go about whatever business of the warrior culture they chose to pursue. It was the final initiation into Saiya-jin adulthood, the pupil either learned enough of a modicum of control to be an effective combatant in ozazru form, or their life was extinguished. This was also the last responsibility for a mother, the judgment of adequacy and possible execution being the final gift they were obliged to bestow upon their progeny.

In unearthing this memory he'd been able to use similar concentration to what he was familiar with in controlling the giant ape to rein in his ki. After that it was only a matter of convincing himself that he could actually pull off such a thing in the all-powerful presence of an audience consisting of, among others, Freiza and his finest. The decision to go through with it had come as a result of the greatest shame he'd ever suffered; the events that had culminated on the nearly failed mission that was the planet Andolonusia. He got a sick feeling in his stomach remembering the feeling of teetering on death's very edge and the realization that the only thing keeping him from going over was the efforts of his feeble slave - who didn't deserve to look him in the eye much less deny him death in battle. When he did actually pull off the upset during the tournament, stunning the most influential personages of the entire galaxy, his success was soured almost completely by the fact that the credit was almost wholly due to the achievements of his insignificant, weakling slave. It wasn't very long after that he'd completely lost his temper with the bitch and nearly killed her. Now he was not only bereft of all he had worked toward during his years in the trade, it was very likely possible that Vegeta's threat had been more than the bluff he hoped it was, proffered to whoever was possibly listening on the airwaves at the time.

That particular problem, and his ill-conceived jaunt to station Xi-599 to somehow save the life of the slave was all the fault of that narcissistic bully Zarbon, who'd shown up after the tournament to gloat over his unbelievable luck. The dandy had won a massive amount of credits betting on Raditzu's fight; on the offhanded notion that he had so many that he could make a show of throwing a significant amount to the wind. The bastard had then gone on to blather about some standing bet he and his companion Dodoria had come up with upon hearing that a mere third class Saiya-jin had somehow acquired a slave. The man had put quite a lot of credits up on the supposition that such a 'savage' couldn't make it the rest of the standard year without dispatching his own material-goods. Vegeta had later made it clear, exceedingly clear, that he didn't want to even hear that a Saiya-jin was responsible for Zarbon gaining any more credits, not even one. Bad enough that Dodoria stood to make out like a bandit, but Vegeta had a particular distaste for Zarbon. The Prince had every right to be livid, and most probably genuinely was. He would surely consider this dreadful turn of events less than thanks for having invited a third class soldier on one of his and Nappa's personal privateer missions. Only time would tell the truth as they were supposed to rendezvous on Chikyuu and move on to a supposedly difficult purging. He could only hope that the apparent need for maybe even more muscle than three Saiya-jin, possibly four if Kakarott joined them, would cause Vegeta to reconsider his threat.

He silently cursed Zarbon, cursed Kakarott and cursed his slave to whom he owed nigh on three standard years of misery, not to mention his ship, his living and just about every shade of self-respect he'd ever had. It was quite possible that his very existence was now effectively null and void.

"Damn!" he cursed loudly to himself, stifling the urge to kick at the tattered interior of the pod. The thing had seen better days and he could easily breach the hull in such a fashion anyway. The standard lighting flickered; the battery gage was reading three-quarters full. The infernal wait was almost over.

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A/N … I know the hangover statement is a total and almost direct swipe from the flick _"The Three Faces of Eve"_ but I couldn't write a story about a split personality and resist referring to the classic split personality story.

Critics, anyone? Speak up if this isn't running smoothly or has too many holes or whatever. I had to re-think a lot of the direction of this and writing isn't exactly my forte – I'm just doing this for fun -so give a holler if necessary. Or if you like what's going on, feel free to drop a note, too.


	6. Aliens Among Us

Ranson Due – Chapter 6 – "Aliens Among Us" (_or "Gohan Demonstrates Phone Etiquite")_

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"No. Absolutely not." Tenshinhan gave Lunch another sidelong glance. He seemed to have decided that it was no use pretending to be concentrating on flying the small capsule plane. "I can't understand why on earth you would request such a thing. Piccolo hasn't caused any trouble in so many years now, and I'm not ready to be the one to spur him on to it." He exhaled sharply and added under his breath as an aside, "just give me time, though."

_-Here we go again.- _Just upon hearing his voice, Kushami's first reaction was an overwhelming urge to just jump into Tenshinhan's arms; if she'd had control over anything going on. Unfortunately, whatever was causing her to retain consciousness while her other personality was in control did not allow her much else than auditory awareness. If she could have, she still wouldn't have actually jumped into Ten's arms. Sure, she liked the guy – a lot - even after they'd argued so bitterly years ago, but that didn't mean she was just going to throw herself at him. However, it didn't make it any less desirable. Of course now he was pulling his 'Mr. Protective' shtick again, something she could certainly do without. If she'd had eyes to roll she would have. _–I'm … she's not a baby!-_

"Can you just tell me where he is, at least?" Lunch restlessly chewed at her thumbnail, then thought better of it. She resorted to intently examining her hand. "Please?" She tried to make the request come out as sweetly as possible, but she didn't appear to be gaining any ground. She had tried to pull off the usual routine, but she found she couldn't look Ten in the face. Guilt loomed menacingly in that, not only because she was aware enough to witness the carnage at the museum. Giving in and just letting everyone on Earth, including your best friends, get killed was one thing from light years out in space. It was quite another matter when you were looking right at them. I didn't have any other choice, she thought, trying to be firm. Unfortunately it felt like a horribly feeble excuse at this point.

_-Ha, ha. Please, tell me another one! There were plenty of choices…-_

"Why do you think I'd let you go alone if I wouldn't even go myself?" Ten asked in a steady tone. The only real hint of incredulousness he'd shown so far was when she'd first made the request. At least one of them was firmly in control of their emotions. Chao-tzu hadn't stopped staring at her, eyes as big as saucers, since they'd gotten in the plane. Ten turned and looked directly at her this time. "As strange as this sounds in present company, you really don't seem to be acting yourself, Ranchi." He put a slight emphasis on the last, is if to drive his point home. "I'm taking you over to Kame house. Maybe you should just get some rest. I'm sure Muten Roshi will be happy to accommodate you."

"But it's really important," she said, mostly to the clouds racing by outside the craft's window. And I really don't want to face everyone who's over there right now, she added privately. She didn't bother pressing the matter, though. She could tell Ten had made up his mind. She resorted to crossing her arms in front of her and pouting, but she already knew it wouldn't help any.

_-Starting to feel remorseful now, are we, Ranchi?-_ Kushami hissed mentally, also stressing the last. _–You don't know me, but you can bet your sweet ass I know you.-_

Kushami couldn't see what was going on in the small cockpit of the capsule plane, but she could hear every word. This eavesdropping on her other self had started happening shortly after her first visit to the medical bay on Missionary, but she had assumed, being the dominant personality, that it was her talent exclusively. The fool med tech had assured her that the effects of the experimental serum would eventually wear off, and that all the talk of cranial meltdown was an over exaggeration meant to throw off her master in the event of an early breakdown of the results – which were supposed to be a reduction in the spontaneity of the personality changes. Nobody had said anything about such side effects, although being able to sporadically listen in on what she had previously perceived as black outs had come in useful, particularly in getting the whole "Kakarott" story straight. She had no idea how her 'counterpart' had broken through, made herself visible even! It just wasn't right. _–Damn it, I'm stronger! … and you should keep that in mind before you start trying to execute my plans. You'll only screw it up, anyway.-_

Chao-tzu blinked several times. He leaned in a little bit closer from the back seat of the plane, as if to verify that he wasn't just hearing things randomly. Then he continued his disbelieving stare, his eyes even wider than before.

_-Leave me alone,-_ Ranchi shot back _–As far as I can tell your plans got screwed up a long time ago.-_

_-Oh, but I'm nowhere near finished! You just wait…-_

_-For what? I know what you want to do, and it's no better than what I would have let happen…-_

_-At least I've made an attempt at slowing things down. Ha! You would have just lain on that slab and died…-_

_-I wouldn't have been on that slab in the first place if it wasn't for you and your lack of any sense of trepidation. Going off like that at someone who you know could snap you in two without even trying!-_

_ -Heh. Yeah, that was classic, wasn't it?-_ So, she had been spying, the little wretch! _– In a place where conventional bullets proved ineffective, I used what ammunition was available.-_

Chou-tzu's jaw dropped open. To anyone looking, it would have seemed that his face had grown a shade or two whiter than it already was. It looked as though Lunch were just sitting, intently staring ahead, but he could hear the raging argument clearly as if she'd been speaking to herself aloud. She shut her eyes as if she were taking up the idea of having a nap, but the clash of voices continued. "Tenshinhan," he whispered, tugging gently on his the green silk of his friend's tunic. "Something's not right… not right at all."

Lunch turned around to look at Chou-tzu in the back seat. She smiled innocently and gave him a reassuring pat, trying desperately to cover up the sense of unease that had seemed to be overwhelming her since she found herself on Earth. "Don't worry Chou-tzu, everything's just fine," she said.

_-Yes, if royally fucked up is what constitutes fine ...-_

Chou-tzu scooted back in his seat. As friendly as Lunch's intent may have been, he couldn't help but see the intimidating leer of her other personality behind the gentle smile. He felt strongly that either something terrible had happened out in space to cause the two hitherto separate personalities to blend, or something terrible would result from it. He found the fact that he was picking up on her thoughts strange in and of itself, but it felt like she was unintentionally psychically broadcasting, and he had no way of tuning it out, though the argument seemed to desist once he'd made it apparent that he was aware of it. He wondered if maybe there wasn't something he could do to help.

----------------------

Bulma wiped sweat from her brow as she wrestled with dissecting another part of the space pod. It was amazing that what looked like such straightforward construction turned out to be so complicated on further inspection. The thing had somehow been assembled like an onionskin. Every time she thought she would get another chunk of the electronics systems free from the bulk of the craft, she just seemed to expose another layer of criss-crossed wires and chipboards encircling the space within the spherical outer and inner hulls. She sighed heavily and flicked the switch on her soldering gun back to the on position to tackle the next nest of connections. Suddenly sparks plumed out of the area she was working on. "Cripes!" she jumped back a little, relieved that she'd opted to wear safety goggles at her father's insistence, hoping that the light show wasn't the prelude to some kind of explosion. As she was getting ready to have another go with the soldering gun, what looked like a small holographic image flickered into view before her.

The wavering image displayed what had to be the interior of another craft like the one she was working on. An occupied craft. Although she couldn't help but notice the streaks of starlight visible outside the one porthole - the thing had to be moving very quickly, she really couldn't take her eyes off the solitary traveler. He appeared to be in a deep sleep. Even so, his mouth turned downward slightly in a petulant scowl, as though he was involved in proving something to someone on whatever landscape his dreams took place. His harsh features may have been somewhat softened in his slumber, but there was still an obvious unabated determination in the set of the closed eyelids above the high cheekbones. Jet-black hair swept upward from an exaggerated widow's peak at his forehead, and similarly from the exposed nape of his neck. He wore an instrument over one eye and ear like the one Lunch had arrived with. Her suspicions about the impending alien visitation were confirmed when she realized the thing wrapped tightly around his waist was in fact a furry brown tail.

Aside from the tail and the wild hair, appearance wise this guy didn't have much more in common with Goku. Heck, judging by the way the entirety off his frame, though clearly muscular, only half-filled the interior of the pod, she figured he couldn't have been taller than five foot four. Goku would loom over this guy by a head if not more. Maybe they didn't have so much to worry about. The arrogant little frown was actually kind of cute.

A small light began to blink behind the man, and his eyes popped open abruptly. The scowl deepened into a full-fledged grimace as he appeared to say something, then the frown slowly spread into a broad smile that was nothing short of evil. A short scream escaped Bulma as she realized that there might have been a corresponding image of her transmitted to the distant pod. She fumbled with the soldering gun and finally just knocked at the glob holding the wires in place, shower of sparks be damned, until the image disappeared.

"What's that you say, Bulma?" Asked Dr. Briefs from the other side of the pod.

"Nothing, just," she realized her heart was racing as though the alien could have reached through the hologram and struck her. "I just think I need a little break here. I'm going to go and get a glass of water or something. Be right back."

She was about to step away from the pod when on impulse she picked up a pair of wire cutters and severed every connection to the piece she'd just been working on. She stood and crossed her arms over her chest and stared the thing down for a moment, somehow reassuring herself with the gesture and a short "humph!"

As she headed back towards Roshi's small house she realized that she did recognize what looked like an IR port within the tangle of wires she'd just laid waste to. There must be some kind of interface with the device the aliens wore. Maybe if she'd had one, she would have been able to hear what the man had said. Maybe it would have given a clue as to how long they had to prepare. The image of that malevolent smile suddenly replayed itself in her mind's eye. She shuddered involuntarily. On second thought, maybe it was best that there wasn't any sound.

When she entered the house, the ringing of the phone interrupted her thoughts. She was about to tell Roshi to get it, no sense in being rude and just picking it up herself, but she found him with his nose about six inches from the television screen, totally engrossed in some kind of exercise program featuring several women scantily clad in leotards. Oolong, home from his trip to the mainland, was jockeying for a better view of the screen.

"Hi Bulma," said Oolong, barely turning around. "Phone's ringing. You wanna get that?"

"I noticed," she huffed in return and went to answer the phone. When she got over to the receiver she noted the indicator for incoming video was flashing. As she answered she momentarily realized that what she'd just walked away from outside was eerily similar, but as the screen flashed to life only the familiar face of Son Chi-Chi greeted her.

"Oh, Bulma. Hello." Ch- Chi smiled warmly. "It's been such a long while since we've talked." She seemed distracted for a moment, her attention directed to something out of the view of the screen. "Yes, sweetie, just a moment …" She turned her attention back to Bulma. "Looks like your little reunion party got started a bit earlier than planned?"

"Well, yes," Bulma replied, unsure of whether to go into detail about the nature of the situation at hand. Chi-Chi interrupted her before she got a chance to elaborate.

"Are you alright, you look as though you've been upset by something?"

"Oh, no, not really. Something rather uh, technical has turned up and my father and I have been working on it for the better part of the day. I guess I'm just a little tired, that's all." Bulma fumbled about to change the subject. "So, uh, you've been quite the stranger for like, the last several years. Something been keeping you and Goku busy up there in the mountains? Surely it can't be as hectic as it is in the city?"

"Well, actually," Chi-Chi's face lit up with an almost devious smile, then she turned toward something off screen again. "It's OK. Yes, Miss Bulma is very nice. OK."

Chi-Chi moved aside and the momentarily empty scene was filled with the image of a small boy. He nervously stared at the carpet before looking up and then very pointedly cleared his throat and bowed politely.

"Hello Miss Bulma. This is Son Gohan speaking and I was wondering if I could speak with my Dad, Son Goku?" He looked off screen as if he were checking for approval for only a second before appending his greeting. "Please." He then gave a little half-smile before retreating off screen in the direction of his mother. Chi-Chi's image then filled the screen again, this time with the child firmly seated in her lap, although he seemed to be trying to bury his face in her shoulder.

"I suppose you could say we've been a little busy up here," said Chi-Chi happily.

"Oh, wow," Bulma exclaimed, "I can't believe Goku didn't say anything! I'm so happy for you! He's absolutely adorable!" She was reminded that she hadn't answered the boy's question. She made sure the tone of her voice was as gentle as possible before addressing him. "Gohan, honey, your dad's…" and then she noticed something brown and furry wrapped snugly around Chi-Chi's forearm, which seemed to relax and slide off in an almost serpentine manner as the boy apparently decided she wasn't a threat after all and faced the video apparatus.

… from outer space and oh my God, you're part alien! Her inner voice was almost screaming all of a sudden, but she managed to keep her tone steady and gentle "he's not right here at the moment, see, uh, he and his friend Kuririn have gone off to do some, um, catching up…"

Chi-Chi sighed heavily. "Oh, Bulma, you don't have to cover up for him. I guessed they'd be out sparring or something. As long as he doesn't influence Gohan by doing that stuff around the house I suppose there's no helping that. Just have him call as soon as he gets back, which will hopefully be soon because I always get this little one off to bed early and he'd sure like to say goodnight to his father."

"He always goes to bed early you say? Like before moonrise early? That's good to know."

Gohan squirmed a little in his mother's lap, not oblivious that he'd become the main subject of the conversation.

"Well, yes, of course, Bulma. He's not even four years old yet and I want to instill good habits so that he has plenty of energy for his studies. Can you believe he's already reading at…" She stopped for a moment, her eyes narrowing with concern. "Are you sure you're alright? You really don't look well."

"It's been a long day. Perhaps I should get some rest myself. I'll make sure to pass the message on to Goku to give you a call. It was nice talking to you." She decided to try and save some face and forced a smile; "and it was very nice to meet you, too Gohan."

"OK, then, I suppose we'll talk later. We could stand to do some catching up ourselves. It was nice talking to you after all this time as well." Chi-Chi nudged the boy gently.

"It was my pleasure to meet you, Miss Bulma," said the boy as he smiled innocently. "Goodnight."

As the screen went black, a million things raced through Bulma's mind all at once. What if the alien invasion Lunch had come back from space to warn them about had already begun, right in front of them? Goku had always been unbelievably strong, they'd always marveled at that fact, all of them, but nobody had even considered the possibility that he just didn't belong on Earth. All those times he'd happened to look upon the full moon and changed into what could be described in no uncertain terms as a monster, what of that? What if it was no accident? Left unchecked, how long would it take for one of those things to completely wipe out the human race? What about two of them? More? What if the whole reason he was here was to eventually breed an army of monsters to take over the planet? What if…

The sound of the front door opening jolted her out of her thoughts. She looked up and there stood Kuririn, with Goku right behind him.

"Oh, Bulma, your dad was just asking for us to find out what's taking you so long," said Kuririn, obviously a little winded from the training session. "I think he's decided to give up on taking the spaceship apart and wants to just transport the whole thing over to the corporation."

"Is there anything to eat in there?" asked Goku when it seemed Kuririn was finished speaking. "That was quite a warm up," he looked down at Kuririn and grinned, "I'm starved."

As she looked at the two of them standing there together, just like old times, she felt all her fears evaporate, seemingly just jitters brought on by stress and unwarranted paranoia. Goku had been her friend for years and they'd lived through so much together. The thought that he had one evil bone in his body was just stupid. If he was on some alien mission to take over the world he could have already done it, many times over. He'd saved the whole world several times instead. One look at his open, easygoing expression and she felt silly having even entertained the notion that he could have meant any of them harm in any way. And that probably went double for the sweet looking little boy she'd just spoken to on the video phone.

"I think there may still be some sandwich stuff in the fridge, but, "she called over her shoulder as she went to get the glass of water she originally came in the house for, "before you start stuffing your face you have a bit of explaining to do, Goku."

"Awww, can't it wait," Goku protested, "I'm really totally famished here." He turned back towards Kuririn who had headed for the nearest comfortable seat. "Didn't you say Tenshinhan was supposed to bring Lunch back over here? Do you think she'll cook us some supper?"

"No, it can't wait," said Bulma, grabbing a handful of the short sleeve of his gi as they passed each other at the threshold to the kitchen. "Your son wants to make sure he gets to say goodnight to you before his bedtime." She mockingly glared at him as she dragged him over to the couch in the sitting room.

He sat down next to Kuririn as she gave him a little shove, pretending that she was able to actually push him around and he hadn't done it of his own volition. After nearly seven years of marriage to Chi Chi, he'd found this approach worked better when dealing with women when they were about to go into some self-righteous lecture. There was no point in being resistant and inflaming tempers further. He looked up at Bulma with a guiltless expression and the same half smile she'd most recently seen on his son's face. "So I guess you met Gohan?"

"Told ya so," snickered Kuririn, although most of his attention had obviously drifted to what he could see on the television past Roshi and Oolong.

"Yes…" she said in a very even and amicable tone, which he knew wouldn't last very long. "He looks like a nice boy, AND HOW COULD YOU COME OVER HERE AND NOT EVEN SAY ANYTHING? HOW COME YOU DIDN'T EVEN CALL TO TELL ANYBODY?!"

"Well," he started, putting one hand up behind his head and shutting his eyes as though he were thinking up a sufficient answer, "I figured I'd let Chi-Chi tell you. I thought it would be a big surprise, you know?"

"Then there's the matter of his, uh, extra appendage…"

"Oh, you mean his tail? That's cute, isn't it? It's just like the one I used to have."

"Is he as strong as you were growing up, too?"

"Oh, no. He's a lot stronger than I was at his age. It's really too bad though. Chi-Chi practically has a fit if I even try to train him a little bit. She thinks he'll be much better off if he studies all the time." Goku frowned slightly, not looking unlike a disappointed child himself. "He has such potential. Chi-Chi's just no fun sometimes." He crossed his arms in front of him as the frown turned into a full on pout. Then he stretched out, all traces of disappointment disappearing. "Why are you so worried about his tail, anyway?"

"Because…" Bulma once again fumbled with words momentarily, and then decided that maybe just coming out with it all at once might be the best way to tell him. "I accidentally turned on some sort of video communicator in the spaceship and I think I saw the guy Lunch said is following her. He has a tail just like you used to have, too."

"Wow. What a weird coincidence. I wonder why…"

"She's trying to say that you're not from here," interrupted a gentle soprano voice from behind them.

They all turned, save for Roshi and Oolong, to see Lunch, Tenshinhan and Chou-tzu in the entryway. Chou-tzu hovered and fidgeted, looking uncharacteristically flustered, while Tenshinhan seemed to be surveying the lot of them with a detached and stoic air that betrayed more than a bit of concern for the state of things. Bulma said a silent prayer that Lunch was in her more easygoing mode. She might be easier to talk to about what they needed to be prepared for, although she seemed rather distressed in the way she was clutching a large, black bag to her chest. And the way she was staring at Goku - well, it looked as though she was convinced that the alien invasion had indeed already begun.

"Wait," said Goku, chuckling a little, "what do you mean not from here?"

Bulma was suddenly sorry she had brought the whole thing up. But, how exactly should one go about telling one of your best friends that he's an alien? "Well, on the bright side" she began anew, unable to help damage already done, "at least he looked like he was a lot shorter than you. Perhaps that would give you an advantage in a fight…"

"But," Lunch interrupted in such a soft tone they could barely hear, "Raditzu's a little bit taller…Vegeta!" She suddenly gasped, dropping the black bag. Then, curiously she had it back in her grasp before it hit the ground. Bulma didn't even see her reach out to catch it. Another audible gasp filled the room as all four seasoned fighters who were looking apparently had been able to follow the motion.

"How…when…" Kuririn stammered, "I don't remember you being able to move so fast, Lunch. Just what happened to you out there?"

"Oh," she replied shakily, "must be because of the gravity." She had visibly paled by this point. "But it doesn't really matter. None of this really matters. Not anymore." She turned briskly and pushing past Tenshinhan and Chou-tzu, she walked right back out the front door, shutting it softly behind her.

"Maybe I should go and try talking to her," said Bulma. Somebody had to break the sudden oppressive silence. "I have to check in with dad, anyway." She looked around questioningly. Nobody said anything; nobody seemed to have moved. "Did any of what she just said make any sense to any of you?"

"I'm still trying to figure out the part about me not being from here," said Goku nonchalantly, although he still looked as though the whole scene had surprised him somewhat.

"All makes perfect sense to me." Everyone turned back around. Roshi was now standing facing them. He leaned slightly on his wooden staff. Bulma could see enough of the television screen behind him to grasp that the program had paused for a commercial break. He toddled off into the kitchen and disappeared behind the door of the refrigerator momentarily. Everyone waited as he slowly made his way back, beer in hand. They all stared expectantly as he cracked the tab on the can and sat back in front of the TV.

"Well…?" asked Bulma impatiently, as it seemed no one else was going to prompt an explanation out of the old Sensei.

"You see," he finally began, liberally sipping from the can of beer from time to time, "a while ago Son Gohan… by the way, very nice of you to honor your late grandfather by naming your son after him, Goku. He found a baby with a tail in the woods. Turns out this was right around the same area you were traveling through, Tenshinhan, when you said Lunch seemed to have disappeared completely a little over three years ago. Which is about when Lunch says she found a spacecraft similar to the one she arrived in earlier today. Anyway, Gohan says this baby was a lot more than a handful to deal with. Actually he says that if he didn't know any better he might even describe the kid as downright hateful. Then the kid falls down a gorge and knocks himself silly in the head and he's just as sweet as can be from then on. They get along just fine after that, and Gohan takes the kid in permanently, treats him as if he were his own…"

"And that baby, was, me!" Goku suddenly beamed as the revelation dawned on him.

"Yes," Roshi continued, "but it stands to reason that the spacecraft Lunch found also belonged to you, Goku. It's got to be more than a coincidence that Gohan finds you in the same area that Lunch finds the spacecraft, see? And Lunch shows up here and she's pretty distressed about the guy who's following her back. Bulma says she's got a glimpse of him, but she gives a little bit of a description and it's apparently all wrong. She came back here thinking there might be some sliver of hope, but Bulma mentions this other guy and all hope flies out the window. In short, we're all very lucky you fell down that gorge, Goku, but our luck may have run out. Looks like your people aren't very nice people, and they're coming to claim that missing baby."

"But, we can't just sit here and do nothing! There's got to be something…" Goku seemed to be searching for another revelation, his expression becoming more serious. "My people, you say… then I have to concentrate on whatever weaknesses I have. It stands to reason that my weakness will be their weakness…"

Bulma surveyed the room, noting the expression on each one of her friends' faces. There seemed to be a general air of resolve brewing as Goku spoke. Nobody was willing to just let aliens show up and take over. Not without a fight anyway. One by one, they all pledged to help Goku in any way they could. Except for Oolong. He seemed to have conveniently disappeared. For her part, Bulma was still marveling at how easily Roshi had been able to explain the whole thing to Goku, all the while skirting the issue of just what having a tail meant.

"My tail!" Goku suddenly blurted. "That has to be the key to all this. I used to get so weak if anybody grabbed hold of it. We just have to work out a strategy, figure out the best way to start grabbing tails and… I take back what I said before. Whoever these guys are, they're not my people, you are. And we will defeat them. It's as simple as that. Now, if you'll all excuse me, I'm going to head home and spend some time with my family. I imagine I'm going to have to put in a lot of hours training, so I'm going to spend what time I can with them. I'll see all of you back here tomorrow?" All nodded resolutely. "And Bulma, why don't you get up with Yamcha and fill him in? Looks like we could use everybody we can get on this."

Damn! The moment she'd been dreading had finally arrived. It had been the first day in many that she'd had enough to occupy her mind that she didn't have to think about him. They had unofficially broken up a week ago. She had waited by the phone for four days. It never rang. She wasn't going to be the first one to give in and call, at least that's what she had decided for sure five days ago. "Fine, I'll send him over," she sighed, "but I'm going to keep myself busy back at the corporation trying to figure out the alien technology, it's probably the area I can help most in." It seemed a fair compromise. Backing out completely would have looked really bad, considering the circumstances. If she was lucky, he wouldn't be home and a curt message on voice mail would suffice. "Speaking of which, I'd better get out there and help dad get that thing packed up… and I said I'd try to get through to Lunch, maybe she has more useful information…"

"No." Tenshinhan broke in. He looked as though he'd been immersed in serious thought for a while. "I'll take care of that. As many revelations as we've had today, there's still something that doesn't add up. I need to figure that out. Hopefully by tomorrow all the pieces will be in place and we'll have a plan, a really good plan, put together. We're going to be ready for these guys, and one way or the other, we'll defeat them."

------

She had stared out at the sun lowering on the horizon for a little while, then she watched Dr. Briefs as he tagged pieces of the space pod, apparently taking inventory. 'The other' had begun trying to break through again at that point, but she'd made a real effort and managed to staunch the flow of cursing and threats that followed a short stint of listening to the old man as he ticked off each piece aloud in tandem with what he had on a handwritten list. The important thing was that she not let her mind become empty. That was always the important thing. Empty on the outside, that was OK, as long as the inside was full of constant thought, always busy, everything would be just fine. Had been that way for years, and it was going to stay that way. Abject fear of the immensely powerful Saiyan prince was not going to push her over that edge, as tempting as it was. Let him come and destroy the planet, he wasn't going to be the one who was going to cause her to loose control. Besides, he probably was still in route to Arlia. Her immediate distress at Bulma's having made contact was probably unwarranted. The way he'd talked, showing up here was completely beneath him. She'd only even seen him once, but the arrogant fool was like an open book. If he wasn't so damn strong he was no more than a spoiled brat with a chip on his shoulder. Still, the power made all the difference.

She'd seen that power when she'd been able to watch his match from beneath the stands on Freiza 75. She had to admit the whole experience of visiting that planet had been breathtaking. It was the kind of thing people dreamed of when they imagined finding distant inhabited worlds. The place was a Mecca of strange buildings that towered past the perception of her vision and streets teeming with every imaginable life form. She couldn't help herself from gawking as Raditzu dragged her down one of the main thoroughfares by the tightly fitting metal collar he'd explained it was necessary she wear at such an event. Because he'd taken it upon himself to explain anything, she had surmised that he'd been in a good mood that day. A rare occurrence which had become absolutely exceptional after Andolonusia. He didn't seem to be able to keep himself from laughing at her obvious naiveté when it came to the greatness that was the extent of the trade. It must have been fairly entertaining because he'd even encouraged her to ask a couple of questions about what she was seeing, and he'd actually bothered to answer them.

"How come out of all these different kinds of people, most of them look a lot like Captain Daax?"

"Feh. His race, they're merely good customers. What they lack in brains they make up for in credits."

"What're the little metal things with red lights that keep zipping around my head every few minutes?"

"Scrubbers. They're programmed to recognize the… less evolved. They keep the atmosphere in your general vicinity neutral since you're too pathetic to filter out the sulfur. You'd suffocate without them. Heh. Too bad they couldn't figure out something similar to keep the stinking gravity more comfortable. Freiza would have to pick some low-grav hunk of shit to put a major metropolis on."

"The buildings are so tall, how come they don't just fall over?"

"Engineering technique called elastic…elastic… dammit!"

"Elastic dammit? Tee-hee, that's a funny name…"

"Shut up, fool! I can't remember exactly what it's called or how it works. My father probably could have explained… what the hell am I doing talking to you anyway? Just keep your trap shut and do what I tell you to."

And so the good mood had disappeared as suddenly and inexplicably as it had surfaced. The rest of the route to the coliseum-like structure that was to house the featured bouts was characterized by a heavy silence. When they'd finally reached their designated place to prepare beneath the stands, she marveled again at what she'd seen on the top levels of the building; walls that reached beyond her sight and a staggering amount of people that packed not only the designated seats, but also every available place to stand. They'd had to force their way through a smothering throng before they'd even reached the portal that led down to where the participants were to ready themselves. The noise of the crowd just in the interim before the fights started was practically deafening. When the fights actually started the roar of the chants and cheers was like an audible juggernaut that shook her down to the very marrow in her bones.

Each participant was assigned a small roped off section under the stands that had a designated number. Apparently they'd been lucky and gotten one on the outside edge of what was referred to as 'the pit.' There was a narrow space between where the rise of the stands started and the foundation of 'the pit' went down where one could actually get a close up view of the arena proper. Most of the combatants would have to rely on playback on holo-screens distributed throughout the place in combination with readouts on their scouters to get a sense of the action. She was able the stand on tip-toe and peek through the chink. Upon doing so she was greeted with a sharp yank to the metal collar that knocked her off balance. She'd landed roughly on her backside in the dirt that made up the floor of 'the pit.'

"Quit fucking around over there and pay attention where you're supposed to." Raditzu looked down at her with a deep scowl that indicated that any trace of levity or anything otherwise wouldn't be any part of the rest of the day. His eyes widened slightly as he noticed the small puff of dirt rising as a result of her fall to the ground. In one swift motion that she hadn't even seen he grabbed her upper arm and hauled her out of the dirt and set her back on her feet. He'd then spat at the place she'd just occupied. Ever since he'd lost that stupid vial on Andolonusia he'd been particularly testy if she was around anything that might have the slightest chance of making her sneeze.

"We'll have none of that transformation bullshit today if you know what's good for you." His grip had tightened slightly to drive the point home. Then he'd turned her around and pointed to a undernourished looking figure with puce-green skin and only one eye that hung dolefully from an appendage at the top of its head.

She noticed that the sorry looking alien wore a similar collar to the one she'd had on. It limped its way among the contestants pushing a cart piled high with chest armor. It looked as though all the contestants had to conform to some sort of regulation in that sense. She almost opened her mouth to ask about it, but thought better of it when she got another glimpse of her master's face. She resigned to wait patiently for the cart. When it arrived she'd pulled the unexpectedly heavy armored shirt from the top of the stack and went about the usual business of removing Raditzu's standard armor and replacing it with the regulation set, all of which was made somewhat more difficult than usual because of the bruise welling up on her arm. He didn't stop glaring at her with that pitiless scowl during the whole process.

"Step aside," the puce-green thing had croaked at her blandly when she'd finished her work. It then held up the eyepiece of a scouter that also had looked like it conformed to some regulation and observed Radizu with its watery eye.

"1600. Sufficient," the thing croaked in the same bland tone. "Agave reads at 1950." Then it went on about its task at the next roped off section.

Her expression must have betrayed her thoughts because the next thing she knew she was practically nose-to-nose with her master, the scowl deepening if that was possible.

"Not one word… don't even think it," he grumbled in a low voice meant for her ears only. "The last thing I need is that sort of… distraction."

But how could she not think about it? She'd heard 'the other's' astounded exclamation that he'd topped out at over 3300 during the battle on Andolonusia. That meant that he'd had the technique of burying his ki down pat for weeks. And it was not just outright pushing it to nothing, this had meant sustaining it at a steady regulated level for a prolonged period. She tried desperately to find some semblance of memory from 'the other,' but on that day it seemed she'd been completely shut off. She had been sure that the entire idea of pulling off an against-odds win at this thing had started off as a ruse, a way for 'the other' to torment her tormentor, but had the wager actually been made? She'd never had access to Nestar, the commander of unit 57, but she knew it was one of his relations who was supposed to have placed a bid in the event that it was possible to actually pull off this crazy stunt.

Before she could think any further, a bellow from the crowds above drowned everything out. It seemed the tournament was beginning. A few of the nearest participants wandered over to the chink in the wall to get a look, but most of them continued with whatever business they'd been occupied with.

She gave her master a questioning look. The pall of anger seemed to lift just a little as he gestured toward the wall.

"Bah! Look if you want to. It's just the warm up events. Pretty boring stuff."

She went back over and was about to raise herself up to get a full view through the slit in the wall when she turned her head slightly to look back and double check that the permission given was genuine.

She was somewhat surprised by the first full view of her master in the sleeker, regulation armor. His muscular form was a lot more streamlined without the excess shoulder guards and the elbow length bracers he normally wore. He still had his tail wrapped protectively around his midsection, but the evidence she was looking for was clear. His attention seemed to be absorbed by some readings he was scrolling through on his scouter, but he noticed her hesitation, giving her an opening.

"What the hell is it now?"

She gingerly made her way back to his side, close enough so that he could hear what she had to say, but not so close to offend. "Sir," she whispered, "you must be careful…"

He had a fistful of her hair in an instant. "I told you I don't want any of your nonsense today. You are so close to ending up on that arena floor right now…!"

"Your tell," she hissed urgently. "I must apologize," the words were falling from her lips faster than she could have stopped them, "I haven't been able to help but notice that whenever you try to bluff something, the tip of your tail curls up slightly and twitches. If you're going to do what I think you are, if anyone were to start asking questions about… you might want to…"

"You dare!" It felt as though her scalp were going to separate from her skull, but suddenly the pressure there slacked, just a little bit. "Duly noted," he growled through bared teeth. "Now don't speak to me again." He roughly pushed her back in the direction of the wall.

What she witnessed that day was very little like the Tenka'ichi Budokais she had seen back on Earth. The warm up events that were taking place consisted of similar exercises to the ones Captain Daax often ordered to 'clear the chaff' out of Missionary's personnel. The big difference was that in these demonstrations, the chance the slaves and small time soldiers had of coming out alive was slim to none. They were herded into the arena and matched against small groups or solitary warriors, sometimes even monstrous things that couldn't have been sentient, that were without a doubt well out of their league entirely. The solitary warriors were by far the worst, toying with their victims persistently before finally dispatching them by means of dismemberment or worse to pump up the crowd. The arena floor was awash in blood and body parts before the first few of these warm up events had finished. She hadn't been unable to watch anymore long before that.

When she had turned away from the wall and resorted to just sitting at its base in the dirt, Raditzu glanced over and flashed her a cruel, knowing smile, his most recent threat to her realized in full. She had waited there, silent and unmoving for what seemed like an eternity when suddenly a heavy silence and a palpable sensation of awe fell over the arena. Scenes on nearby holo-screens panned to a set of box seats, richly furnished, yet still vaguely Spartan.

Double doors at the back of the box opened reveling a small, hovering figure. As it moved forward, two larger figures stepped up from behind to flank the strange looking little man. These two seemed a visual study in opposites. The taller and by far wider of these looked very much like Missionary's captain, though slightly better looking, if such a creature could be described as pleasing to look at. Bony spines pocked its pink, almost scaly textured flesh intermittently, and its flaccid eyes were set above a mouth that was little more than a pucker. The figure to the other side stood with a patrician air, its delicate features accentuated by the slightly green porcelain skin. Thick, deep green hair neatly woven into a long braid snaked past piercing amber colored, almond shaped eyes. This one was also adorned with several accoutrements that seemed to serve no purpose except as jewelry.

The small figure to the fore was the one that commanded the attention of all present. He didn't look anywhere near as muscled as his associates, but an invisible aura of pure power seemed to permeate even the projected image on the holo-screens. A pasty white membrane covered it from its head to its three toed feet in a reticulated reptilian fashion, including its fat lizard like tail. Its unkind close-set eyes were slightly shadowed by a bony structure complete with two side-jutting horns that topped its head. It was unclear to her as to whether this was some kind of ornamental helm or an actual part of the head that seemed far too large for the small body. The little man that was surely none other than Freiza floated forward until he was just over the lip of the box, arms crossed over his chest. Though his head never turned, the malicious gaze slid fully across the entirety of those assembled. The full blackened lips curled into an almost imperceptible smile, and then he opened his arms to the crowd, which erupted in a howl that forced her to cover her ears and sent cold chills down her spine. The tournament proper had begun.

-----

A/N : Wrote an extra long chapter this time since most of this is old hash. I'm just practicing flexing the part of my brain that wants to be oh so descriptive. Sincere apologies to Mr. Toriyama for 'borrowing' from his original dialogue. It is intended as flattery, and I'm not seeking monetary compensation of any kind from this endeavor. I tried to keep it to a minimum, but although this story is going to turn out much different, some things remain very much the same.

Hope the beginning part wsn't too terribly confusing. Split personality's tough to capture. Thanks for the kind reviews so far. Always helps because sometimes I feel like I'm flying blind here.


	7. Ropeadope

AN: Rajhan, thanks for being my lone reviewer at this point. Really you've been too kind! It does help with the incentive to write knowing somebody's reading. Glad you're enjoying so far. In reference to your question, remember that this part is from Lunch/Ranchi's point of view (well sort of? That's one of the things I wonder if I'm handling properly.) and she's more forgiving than she probably should be. Raditz is a big jerk – at least he was during the bit of "air time" he got in the manga, not to mention that he thinks a whole lot more of himself than he probably should. Because he's in a situation that he never would have been in if planet Vegeta never had been destroyed, I suppose I have made him a little indecisive at times – and he still doesn't fully 'get' that he's not just dealing with someone who transforms in appearance, but that there's actually two separate personalities there. Maybe I haven't done such a good job making that clear? Let me know.

Anyway, enough prattle…

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Ransom Due - Chapter 7 - Rope-a-Dope

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The main event of the tournament proved to be at least a little bit easier for Lunch to watch, when she could actually discern what the combatants were doing. Most of them moved far too quickly for her to follow unless she exercised an extreme amount of concentration, which had perhaps distracted her enough to overlook the sheer brutality of the contests. Unlike the tournaments she was accustomed to, these bouts had very few rules, if any. There was no designated 'out of bounds.' The combatants need only keep within the confines of the vast arena. Some of the matches seemed to last forever, as the opposing parties simply pounded on each other until one or the other could no longer move, much less fend off an attacker. The winners of each match did not move on to another, it seemed that their one assigned bout was all they would get to show the audience just what they were made of. She never did figure out how the ultimate decision of choosing an overall tournament winner was calculated. The losers of each bout were most often carted off to a regen chamber, if they were fortunate. In fact, the one edict that characterized the whole of the event was that Freiza himself was always deferred to before the implementation of a killing strike, and such permission seemed to be rare.

The consequences of breaking this one rule were demonstrated not to long into the succession of fights when one of the contestants, and insectiod creature, stepped into the path of its opponent's ki blast. Either that or the blast, which seemed errant and uncontrolled, certainly by the standard she had been familiar with set by her friends back on Earth, had actually hit its intended mark. Perhaps the dumpy wart infested favorite for that particular match had underestimated the force of the blast. In any case, the insectoid's exoskeleton shattered upon the indirect impact, the backlash of which continued on to plow through a sizable chunk of the first few rows of the stands. A deathly silence descended upon the arena once again as the remaining contestant stood slack jawed, shards of exoskeleton and dollops of milky innards raining down upon him and the spectators at the edge of the impact radius lucky enough to escape death themselves. Before the debris had settled, it seemed the presiding tyrant had simply, and once again almost imperceptibly, lifted a finger. Abruptly, the intended winner of the match fell over backwards, hitting the ground along with the last of the fragments of his opponent. The crowd erupted again with cheering as the bout was declared in default. The holo-screens afforded spectators of a close up of the fallen champion as his body was hauled out of the arena. The only evidence of his demise was the trickle of blood from a small precise hole directly between his eyes.

Shortly before Raditzu's match, the sallow, one-eyed slave with the supply cart returned on another set of rounds. This time the cart was piled with clean rags, stacks of shallow basins and bottled water. It handed her one of each, then when it seemed satisfied that her master wasn't really paying any attention to the exchange, it croaked quietly that she probably wouldn't need them. It followed this with concise directions to the regen tanks on the next level down.

Raditzu was alternately looking through the crack in the wall and the nearest holo-screen, though it had been obvious that most of what he was following in relation to the current match was coming across through his scouter. She had given up on watching the fight taking place shortly after it started because it had quickly become apparent that it was one that she would be unable to follow. She'd had a sense that the combatants were a lot more powerful than any in the previous fights, even before all the scouters around had started chirping with audible warnings. She found herself somewhat disappointed after checking the roster ticking by on the bottom of the holo-images because both participants were listed with power levels well over and above even Captain Daax, and the silly posturing one of them did before any of the action started was enough to make her wonder about his fighting style.

Another bone jarring explosion and uproar from the crowd signaled what must have been the conclusion of the fight. When Raditzu turned away from the wall she was surprised to see he was laughing at something. He'd shaken his head slightly and said something like "looks like Ginyu's leaving a lot prettier than he showed up…" Then he seemed to have suddenly remembered that she was the only one in the vicinity to hear him and that she was not allowed in on whatever the joke was. He'd abruptly become silent and the stern frown returned. She glanced over at the holo-screens anyway and saw that the purple thing with horns that had been slated as the looser was the combatant who remained standing, and strangely it was performing an exact reproduction of the outlandish posing its opponent had begun the match with.

"Don't even think of leaving this section until they drag me out of that arena, in which case I expect you to meet me coming out of regen," Raditzu grumbled at her as he turned on his heel to head out for his fight. As he turned around she noticed the tip of his tail as it curved slightly upward and twitched several times, indicating to her that he intended to walk out of the arena rather than be dragged.

She almost reflexively replied with "break a leg," but she bit her tongue. She knew he couldn't have cared less if she'd wished him luck, and such a genial colloquialism would probably just infuriate him, but the whole situation seemed oddly empty to her. She'd wondered then for a moment just why she even cared what happened to him out there, and then she remembered that if for some reason he perished, as bad as he was, there were all kinds of worse things all around her.

The purple combatant was finally vacating the arena when announcements for the next fight started. She had already been well aware of the statistics, but she was taken aback somewhat when the favored opponent entered the arena. He had wrinkly skin with a bluish cast, beady black eyes and a sparse unruly tuft of black hair that sprouted from the top of his head between two similar horns to the victor that had just previously left the arena. What concerned her the most was that this creature positively dwarfed her master, even with its horrible stooped over posture. Logically she knew size was relative in the scheme of things in that place, as one look at the diminutive tyrant in his box seats confirmed. That didn't make the intimidating outward appearance of the creature called Agavé any less disconcerting. It didn't help that the spectators were thunderously chanting the favorite's name as they had for all of the slated winners.

It seemed like there had been a second's delay after the start of the fight was declared as the combatants sized each other up, then suddenly both charged, and she lost sight of them momentarily. She'd been squinting and trying to catch up with the action when she realized the expected clash had never happened. As big as Agavé was, it didn't seem to slow him down any. When she finally was able to make out what was going on she saw that he'd not only sidestepped Raditzu entirely, he'd gained purchase on the Saiya–jin's wild mass of hair and flung him in the opposite direction. Undaunted, Raditzu used the force of his ki to slow himself down before he wound up in the stands, then beckoned the wrinkled behemoth to make another move.

Agavé seemed all too happy to oblige with a volley of ki blasts, clearly at a lower energy level than he was capable of producing. Raditzu simply strafed away from the majority of the rapidly moving energy balls, much to the dismay of the first row of spectators, and slapped the last of the barrage back in the direction from whence it had come. It seemed as though Agavé finally decided to get serious, and made another charge, engaging the Saiya-jin in a close up exchange of punches as the two flew up towards the heights of the arena. Lunch lost sight of them again, but fortunately the holo-screens had focused on their ascent.

Agavé was throwing powerful uppercut punches one after the other in combination with some quick jabs, but he only seemed to be landing a little less than half of them. It would have appeared to the audience that Raditzu was completely invested in the action of blocking all the punches, but she knew he was probably investing more into not letting his ki rise somewhat if not skyrocket altogether, which had the potential to bring the fight to a rapid end and possibly prematurely dispatch his opponent. Aside from the danger of becoming the purveyor of an untimely kill, she was under the distinct impression that if Raditzu was going to pull off a victory here, he was going to have to be careful about it. As much as power mattered here, the status quo seemed to matter as much or more, and stepping out of line was clearly something Freiza and those close to him did not take kindly to. Although it was apparent that 3300 was by no means an exorbitant power level in comparison to some of the heavy hitters here, it was a far cry from the 1600 Raditzu had checked in to the fights with officially, and there was no telling what kind of reprisal would result from flaunting such a blatant discrepancy.

The high altitude exchange of blows and parries lasted for quite a while before Raditzu disengaged from his mammoth opponent and leveled a snap kick directly at the small of his back when given a slight opening, showing that he was no slouch in the speed department either. Agavé went spiraling out of control back towards the floor of the arena as Raditzu pressed both palms downward and sent a moderately powered stream of ki energy searing towards him. Agavé wasn't able to right himself before the impact, which sent him hurtling into the floor of the arena. He wound up at the bottom of a deep crater in the already battered dirt surface, but didn't seem to be any worse for the wear.

Lunch wasn't sure if the turn the fight took next was planned or just the natural progression of the contest because she was unable to follow some of the rapid movements. Raditzu had come back down to ground level behind his opponent as he was picking himself up out of the crater, and took the opportunity to send another stream of ki at the blue giant. Somehow, Agavé managed to turn around before the blast connected and opened his mouth… swallowing the ki energy in its entirety. She wasn't completely sure, but that's what it looked like had happened. This maneuver must have surprised Raditzu as well, because there was a split second when he hesitated, leaving himself wide open. Agavé took the proffered opening and spat the energy it appeared he'd just swallowed back towards his opponent. He must have enhanced the beam with a modicum of his own power, because it was obviously devastating. To Raditzu's credit, he made a good show of trying to block the massive burst without powering up any. This didn't even delay the effect of the blast, which sent him tumbling backward and plowing across the dirt, leaving a chasm in his wake.

Agavé went right after him, and started pounding his supine body with over handed blows delivered courtesy of cudgel-like fists. He continued in this manner until the ground fissured around the slowly growing depression, and it seemed fatigue was slowing him. The close up views on the holo-screens showed a perceptible labor in his breathing as he paused in his onslaught, evidently trusting what Lunch knew had to have been an erroneously low reading on his scouter. All of a sudden, the ground exploded, and the next thing Lunch saw was that Raditzu had the giant's neck in a lock and clotheslined him across the dirt all the way to the other side of the arena. When the wall that divided the floor from the rise of the stands finally halted them, the Saiya-jin somehow got a hold of one of Agave's horns in each hand and repeatedly brought the massive head down while thrusting upward with his knee.

The noise of the crowd had settled to little more than a murmur as most of the audience was trying to figure out how the slated looser had gone from almost completely spent to slightly above full power. The sickening wet crack of Agave's face getting smashed to a pulp was momentarily audible, which seemed to draw the spectators back into a frenzy. The blue giant attempted to bring his hands up to shield himself from the blows, but Raditzu jerked the head upwards, let go to slap the hands away and used that opening to plant his foot squarely in the center of the broad chest and drive Agavé to the floor, whereupon he ground his full weight into the brute's solar plexus. The huge frame of the alien writhed helplessly for a few seconds, the sausage-like fingers uselessly clawing at the dirt, and then settled.

Raditzu turned and looked upward towards the tyrant's box seats. The audience fell silent again as the holo-screens panned in on Freiza, whose black lips curled upward ever so slightly as he gave a tiny nod. The Saiya-jin went down on one knee in acquiescence, and then as he returned to standing, he grasped his defeated opponent by its paltry tuft of hair, displaying the shattered face as he wrenched the thing upward on its knees. He opened his palm inches from the mashed visage and let fly another controlled ki blast. The headless corpse slumped to the ground; the only thing left of the head was one of the blackened horns that was still skittering across the dirt as the Saiya-jin walked out of the arena, followed only by the approving chanting of the crowd.

When he'd returned, she busied herself with switching the armor back out and getting the regulation set cleaned up. He looked a lot more battered than she'd been able to see during the fight. He was covered in gore in various places, a streaming wound on the side of his face at his hairline was the only place she was absolutely sure was his own blood, though. She'd gone to clean the wound and check for others, but he just grunted and half-heartedly pushed her away. It had seemed the after effect of his win was going to be the same strangely melancholy distraught demeanor that had settled over him after his near death experience on Andolonusia. He'd tried to stop her from ministering to his wounds then, too, but then he'd been too weak to do anything about it but complain and threaten. She couldn't figure out his mood at all. He'd successfully pulled off something that he himself had declared impossible not to far off in the past, but he acted as if he was very unhappy about it. For all she knew, there was now a bank account in his name somewhere overflowing with enough credits for him to buy his own planet, and he hadn't even said a word. He'd just snatched what remained of the water from her hands and gulped it down. When she'd finished handing over all the pieces of his own armor he simply spat at the ground, which she hadn't been able to help but notice was tinged with red, and gone over to watch the rest of the fights.

She'd let her attention drift to watching the rest of the fights, herself, but all of them seemed anticlimactic after the day's first real upset. The crowd seemed a bit more subdued as well, until the final match when Prince Vegeta entered the arena. It was the first time she had seen the renowned fighter, and at first she'd been as surprised by his stature as she'd been at her first sight of Agavé, except this was for the opposite reason. The man seemed almost tiny as he stood in the vastness of the arena. His stats put his power at right about 18,000, and there'd been stronger fighters on the floor that day, but it didn't take long for her to realize that this one unabashedly wore all that power on his sleeve. Even without his reputation having preceded him, the simple fact of the intent with which he carried his immense power made him singularly more terrifying than anything she'd seen yet, save for Freiza himself.

When the opponent entered the arena, she had to chalk up another item on the mental list she'd had running all day for things that were 'the most.' This one had to be the strangest looking thing she'd seen. It was even more vertically challenged than the Saiya-jin Prince, had green, warty skin like a toad's and along with two tiny eyes set where she thought they should have been, he sported another two bulging orbs on either side of his head. It proceeded to commence a round of posturing similar to the purple victor from the past fights, albeit in an obviously less practiced manner. It didn't even finish before the Prince haughtily walked right up to the thing and sent it flying with a well-aimed roundhouse punch to the gut. There hadn't even been any waiting for the announcement of the fight's beginning, and nobody seemed to care. The crowd was going absolutely wild already. The strange little opponent got up off the ground and brushed itself off while it sneered at the Prince, who just stood with arms crossed and looked down his nose at the thing.

When the fight really got going, it quickly became apparent that there would be no quarter for the opponent, the structure in which the fights were housed or the spectators. At one point the Prince had plastered a full third of the arena with what seemed like a never-ending torrent of ki blasts, a display that she questioned was actually aimed at the retreating creature or perpetrated simply for the sake of flinging power. When the Prince actually got into a close up exchange of blows, he was absolutely relentless, from what she could see, every strike was fostered with the intent to kill, rules be damned.

Strangely, during all of this, Prince Vegeta never seemed to get the upper hand in the battle. Whatever fighting technique the odd little creature used, it seemed he could get out of any situation. On various occasions he seemed to just appear in an opportune place and get in a powerful kick on the Prince with his stubby legs. Many times it would seem that he'd gotten in a blow or two that were completely unseen, The Prince would just suddenly get knocked back or double over for what looked like no reason. The strange alien had somehow gotten out of a headlock and ended up on the other side of the arena at one point, ki already streaming toward the Saiya-jin before he'd even noticed that he'd lost purchase. Stranger still, every time this happened, Lunch strongly felt the same disjointed sensation that had characterized her awakenings from control of 'the other.' She'd been unable to follow a lot of what had gone on previously at the tournament simply because the combatants were too fast, but this was entirely different.

Finally, it seemed the Prince managed to have his opponent on the ropes. After either a lucky guess or a calculated judgment, Lunch certainly couldn't tell which, and it hardly mattered in the end, the Prince moved into position right in front of the strange combatant when it reappeared after using its signature technique. The Prince engaged it swiftly and began to beat an unremitting tattoo of jabs into the creature's torso, driving it successively backwards.

"Eh. Can't catch a breath now," Raditzu commented offhandedly, apparently for his own benefit. She could have almost sworn he'd forgotten she was even there at this point. Not that she was going to test that theory by leaving the vicinity he'd ordered her to stay in or anything. At least he was still speaking to someone, even if it was only himself.

When it seemed that his opponent was literally choking on its own blood, the Prince finally desisted in his attack, stepped back a pace and brought his right arm to the fore, palm outward, and braced it with his left. Then he blasted the thing across the entire expanse of the arena, where it slowly rolled to a standstill. Her jaw dropped open on witnessing this particular blast because not only did it include the full fury of the Prince's power, it was utterly contained, controlled and precise. It was absolutely the first manipulation of ki energy she'd seen in the whole of her sojourn in space that was in this respect not at all unlike the Kamehameha wave she was familiar with.

The charred body of the little opponent twitched and heaved in its resting place, apparently grasping to consciousness still, despite its condition. The Prince whipped his head around towards where the tyrant was seated. Freiza's visage briefly appeared on the holo-screens once more, except this time the mouth twitched downward, and he blatantly shook his head in the negative. The strange little alien would get to keep his life despite defeat. Vegeta frowned irritably in return. The look that came over him was so completely devoid of any sort of respect, if Lunch hadn't known better, she would have thought he was a petulant child who'd just been denied getting his way. He then pointedly stomped over to the now unmoving creature and hauled back his white-booted foot and kicked the thing up into the stands before taking his leave of the arena.

----

They had made their way back up to the upper level concourse of the building when Raditzu ordered her to stop. He seemed to be looking for something, or someone. She had backed up a couple of steps to get out of his line of sight and take the opportunity to gawk some more at the various quirks displayed in the architecture. The concourse was the bottom level of an open courtyard of sorts, and she could observe various floors and balconies of the building from her particular vantage point. All of the various archways and portals looked somewhat like the same construction used on Missionary, except whereas the starship was based on a more squat, rounded design, the format of the building was based on a vertical plan. What was most interesting was the subtle shift in the style of ornamentation, which tended to change slightly every few floors as the construction rose, as though either styles had changed quickly during construction or the build itself had taken a very long time. It briefly occurred to her that construction was most likely ongoing considering all the damage that had resulted from the tournament.

Suddenly she was lifted up off of the ground by the back of the metal slave collar. A choked sound escaped her as the collar began cutting off her air supply. She reflexively struggled as a robust mustached face came into her field of vision.

"Hey, Raditz," the man asked in a deep baritone as he scrutinized her, "this your new plaything?" The man, who was tall enough to be holding her a foot or more off the ground to have her at eye level, stroked his stout chin with his free hand thoughtfully. His dark eyes gleamed forebodingly as he looked her over intently. She wondered in a panic if it would be the last thing she'd see as she began to loose consciousness for lack of air. "It's kinda pretty. Maybe you should lend it to me, just for the evening."

"I don't know if that's such a good idea." She heard her master's reply just over the sound of her own blood rushing, which had become quite loud at the same time her vision began a strange white-out as she desperately fought to remain cognizant. "It's terribly fragile. Would I even get it back in one piece? As it is you're asphyxiating it. Maybe you should just put it down."

"Oh," came the dispassionate retort as she hit the floor hard on her backside for the second time that day. She gulped air and rubbed at her neck where the metal had dug in. "You know, there was a time when I could just pull rank and take it…"

"I know that. Unfortunately that time has passed. I'm also aware that your power level dwarfs mine as such. If it's important enough to you to fight over, I might enjoy such a contest – at the appropriate time and place, of course. I would be a fool not to take the opportunity to test my skills against an elite, seeing as how in the past such a thing would be completely unheard of."

Her vision had returned just enough for her to pick herself up off the floor and stagger somewhat behind Raditzu in the hopes that the adage 'out of sight, out of mind' would hold true in this particular case. As she did, a third voice chimed in from behind her.

"Oh, for pity's sake, Nappa, why get all worked up over vermin when there are upscale brothels on this planet that would open their doors even to you?" She didn't have to turn around and look to know it was the Saiya-jin Prince. If not for the absolutely egotistical tone of his voice, for the fact that the very air around him vibrated with power as though he was some kind of peculiar tuning fork. He walked past her conceitedly and visibly ignored the semblance of a salute both men were performing. "Leave such distractions to the rabble. It must be terribly entertaining for a low class thug to actually be in possession of such a thing. I, for one, tired of such trifles long ago."

Lunch decided to hazard a glance at her master in the off chance that she might be able to dodge whatever sort of explosion that would probably result from the Prince's depreciating commentary. She was surprised to find that Raditzu hardly even looked angry. He stood before his prince, eyes downcast, apparently resigned to take whatever criticism the deposed monarch had to dole out. It seemed that whatever bravado he'd had in playing up his rank in the trade to Nappa had completely evaporated when it came to dealing with the Prince, and the old rank and file of things still counted for something. Then she happened to notice the old familiar twitch at the tip of her master's tail as the Prince continued speaking. She instinctively backed away a couple of paces as Vegeta directed his attention toward the seemingly browbeaten soldier.

"I must say, I never expected to have to actually work to upstage the likes of you, Raditz, but I suppose stranger things have happened. Your little performance has contributed to my decision to allow you to join Nappa and myself on a little private expedition to a world that has proven particularly troublesome to Lord Frieza." Vegeta had stressed the word performance in a way that suggested he didn't take the outcome of the tournament all that seriously. "I honestly didn't think you'd live through such an outing, but after this evening, it seems anything's possible." At this point the Prince had taken up a semblance of a militaristic march consisting of five paces in one direction before turning on his heel and continuing back in the other direction. He seemed principally cheerful in the role of 'general directing the troops.'

"In any case," he went on, "even three Saiya-jin may not be enough, considering the regrettable lack of elite soldiers available," he pointedly stopped his pacing and directed his attention towards Raditzu again, "you may find it worth your while to pick up your wayward brother as the Sol system is on the way to our destination. I'd hate to bother, but if it's necessary we could even meet you there, within say a standard year… provided the two of you have the place cleared by then. Surely even you could handle that?"

The apparently rhetorical question went unanswered, as Prince Vegeta obviously wasn't yet finished speaking. Nappa had taken up a position beside the Prince at this point, arms crossed over his chest as he stood at rapt attention, as though some of Vegeta's power and influence had simply rubbed off on him by default. He sported a particularly smug half-grin, which summarily collapsed when the Prince mentioned that he expected all three of his underlings on the mission to be satisfied with a mere 10 percent of the take, provided they lived.

Thankfully, all of them appeared to have forgotten about her presence, allowing her to observe the scene unobtrusively from the greatest distance she dared put between herself and her master. The spectators from the tournament had mostly cleared the building at this point, permitting her to notice a solitary figure leaning casually on the far wall behind the Saiya-jin. It was unmistakably the better looking half of Frieza's retinue that she had seen on the holo-screens. He seemed to be observing the entire tableau with indifferent amusement. For his part, she had not gone unnoticed. She definitely felt that she really should have been somewhere else, anywhere else, when she realized that somehow she had managed to meet the amber gaze and the man reacted with a jocular wink and raised his finger to his lips indicating that he wanted to remain unobserved for the time being. The gesture, which perhaps should have been taken in stride seemed wholly out of place in the situation and only served to send cold chills through her. When it seemed Vegeta had concluded his briefing on the mission, the aqua-green skinned man cleared his throat loudly, and then stepped up to the group.

"Gentlemen, if I may use that term loosely," he announced in a strangely lilting tone as he swept in among them, "I have been sent to inform Vegeta that Lord Frieza requests an audience with him post haste."

While Nappa and Raditzu had both performed a respectful salute as they noticed one of Frieza's right hand men, Vegeta simply stood and glared. Not having any idea what to do in such a situation, she found herself standing somewhat detached from the rest of them, gawking again out of uncertainty and a heady fear that had become less controllable by the minute.

"Zarbon, why don't you go back to whatever rock you crawled out from under?" Vegeta spat discourteously at the first opportunity for a retort. "I'm well aware that Frieza-Sama wishes to speak with me about the Arlian mission, as he is well aware that I will meet with him at my convenience. I really don't see what business of yours…"

"Pish, posh! Vegeta," Zarbon replied callously. Lunch realized with horror that he was perceptibly directing all his attention towards her, as if making a show over the fact that a mere slave was more worthy of his regard than all three of the warriors. "Did you even consider," he wandered right up behind her and began idly running his long fingers through her hair as he spoke, "that the urgency of the matter might have something to do with the price of Arlian commodities, which incidentally has tripled just since the start of the tournament? Perhaps someone has let their pride get the better of their judgment in this case?" He had moved on to examine each part of her in turn, starting with her face, which he got a better look at by grasping her chin lightly and pushing it upward, forcing her to meet his gaze again, though only momentarily because she looked downward as quickly as possible out of habit. He frowned slightly at the abrasions on her neck at the edges of the collar, and deeply at the now hideous bruise on her upper arm. It was the first time since she had found herself thrown into slavery that she'd really felt like an article of trade on the block. Although his touch was extremely gentle, belying the incredible power at his disposal which she could clearly feel as he was standing so close, it was also unnaturally cold and unyielding, as though he was made of marble.

This was positively the creepiest experience she'd had yet. Worse, Vegeta's attention was now fully upon her and there was no pretense there of anything but unbridled malice. She was sure that if Zarbon himself hadn't been in such close proximity her life would have ended right there. Worse still, although it was by no means plainly obvious, by what had to have taken a phenomenal effort, she knew Raditzu was angrier than a hornet stuck in a small jar. If she had thought he'd been on the edge of an explosion before, surely at this point he was approaching what could be described as a super nova. Maybe nobody else noticed it because he was still steadfastly keeping his power at an appropriate level. Maybe it was because she hadn't had very much contact with anyone else for the past couple of years, but as far as she could tell, the man was clearly pissed off and she had no doubt of who he was going to take it out on providing she even walked away from the situation at hand.

"What's the difference if I happened to mention the Arlia mission to a couple of choice personages, anyway?" asked Vegeta. Zarbon had apparently tired of whatever interest he'd had in her and moved away, but Vegeta still regarded her with a burning glower that was more akin to disgust than anything else as he argued his case. "Frieza can afford it. It's not as though he's really interested in becoming the sole purveyor of fine malt beverages, unless you've heard something I haven't?"

Zarbon finally directed his full attention to the Saiya-jin prince. "If one can call gloating to Captain Ginyu a mere mention… As usual, the obvious flies cleanly and surely over your head, Vegeta. I should think that after all this time you would have picked up some semblance of understanding the finer points of the trade, but I suppose one can only hope."

Although she was shrinking behind Raditzu again, trying to become invisible if it was at all possible, Lunch still found her attention riveted to the strange scene unfolding. Zarbon and Vegeta looked like they were close to exchanging blows, but she noted that as it seemed neither was paying any particular attention to them, Nappa and Raditzu took the opportunity to exchange an exasperated look. Whatever was at the heart of the matter, the other Saiyans apparently knew this sort of thing had happened before and it wasn't likely to escalate past being verbal, and thus boring in their eyes.

"Anyway," Zarbon waved his hand in Vegeta's direction as if swatting at a particularly annoying fly, "you'll just have to take it up with Freiza-Sama. I'm only the messenger."

"Humph," Vegeta grunted as he took up the self-important stance that she had already become familiar with, "as if there were doubt in anyone's mind the you were ever more than Frieza's messenger. You can leave now," he spat at the floor, " and convey the message to Lord Frieza that since it seems to be so utterly dire, I will see him as soon as I'm finished here."

"And," Zarbon continued as though Vegeta hadn't even said anything, "I really wanted to get a closer look at my new cash cow, or monkey as it were." He walked up beside Raditzu and clapped him on the back. It could have been construed as in good nature except that he did it hard enough for the Saiya-jin to stumble forward somewhat. This time Nappa and Vegeta exchanged a glance that she could only interpret as somewhat satisfied, despite the fact that for all practical purposes Zarbon had just called all three of them monkeys.

Zarbon, seemingly above it all, hardly even paused to notice. "I was just telling Dodoria earlier today that it really doesn't matter how many credits one has, because if you look at the big picture it's really Frieza that owns everything, and he begged to differ, commenting on my penchant to use said credits to purchase various and sundry baubles. So, I set out to prove my point by betting against the odds on one of the fights. Funny thing is, I made an exceptional return on that bet. Better still, I see that your slave is somewhat the worse for wear. A real shame as I do so admire beautiful things." He shot Lunch a pitying sidelong glance.

"We've had a running wager that you'd eventually exterminate the poor thing. One can't really expect more from savages, but Dodoria seems to think it'll make it at least until you purge its planet. I on the other hand, don't think it'll last through the standard year. I guess in the end Dodoria was right earlier because now that I have a good start on actually purchasing something in the area of real estate, even if it is only a collection of credits as yet.

"So, you see, Vegeta," it seemed as though Zarbon was determined to get the last word on the prince, "you don't have to be in such a huff all the time. It turns out you little monkeys can be good for something, after all. Though I really would keep an eye on that one. After today it looks as though he really is the proverbial chip off the old block. Much as I am a fan of tragedy at times, I'd hate to see history repeat itself, no?" With that, he turned to leave. "You have been noticed," he added casually as he passed Raditzu.

Vegeta glared at his back as he left, and grumbled something that Lunch couldn't hear, and really didn't want to. Then he turned his furious gaze back upon his compatriots. "If I hear that imbecile makes one more credit because of either one of you…" then he turned his attention back towards Lunch. She could have sworn her heart skipped a beat. Suddenly the phrase 'if looks could kill' drifted through her mind. "Low class fools owning property, what a sham!" He exclaimed. "If you had any idea what you were doing that thing would have been on its knees for the duration. You wouldn't have to worry about killing it because it would know exactly what to do without you having to even touch it." She found herself rooted to the spot as he took one ominous step towards her after another. The next thing she knew her legs were buckling out from under her as she felt a sharp pain in her lower back. The prince obviously knew exactly what he was doing because she couldn't even feel her legs anymore, and she'd doubled over far enough for her nose to be practically touching the tile floor. She wondered fleetingly if her master was anxious about potential dust particles on the floor, even if she did realize her other half would have caused a complete disaster of one sort or another in this situation.

"See, if you knew anything, you'd have thought of utilizing pressure points to break the thing in instead of whatever unrefined method you've resorted to. I should have hit it a little harder, but who knows how long it would last with permanent paralysis. If Zarbon cashes in on any more of this claptrap, trust me, I can think of all kinds of ways of incapacitating either one of you."

She couldn't tell if he'd been referring to both of the Saiya-jin, of if she was being lumped in with Raditzu in that statement because she couldn't even raise her head to see what was going on anymore, but gratefully, a pins-and-needles sensation was starting to manifest in her lower back, replacing the numbness. Vegeta must have left, because the next thing she heard was Nappa.

"Want my advice, boy? Don't be stupid. Believe me when I say that being noticed by that bunch isn't really what you want. Now, are you sure you don't wanna let me borrow your slave for a bit?"

"No." The reply had an edge of defeat to it. "Well, I heard you had cultivars. I might think about a temporary trade, but you heard Vegeta. You'd definitely injure it if you…"

"Ha! I won't do anything of the sort. You can even watch if that would make you feel better."

"What!?"

"It's not what you think. Trust me."

----

AN: OK, I've really tried to go over this with a fine tooth comb for whatever's wrong, so let me know if there's something. The action's tough to write and I know there has to be like two billion tournament scenes in other fics so hopefully this was a bit of a different spin on it. Next chapter will be more fun.


	8. Deal's On

Ransom Due – Chapter 8 "Deal's On"

She really wished she hadn't thought of dust particles as it seemed to have jinxed her completely. She had been deciding whether or not to actually get up off of the floor when she felt the distinctive feeling of a sneeze coming on. She tried to stifle it, and the itching in her nose did recede for a moment as she listened in on the Saiya Jin's banter, but the next thing she knew her nose was itching again. Suddenly it was too late.

She felt her head rock back with the sneeze, then suddenly nothing. Nothing physical, anyway.

"…Well, those cultivars aren't exactly chump change. Maybe I don't think that's really a fair trade, Nappa was saying. "Woah!" exclaimed, cutting himself off in mid sentence.

Lunch suddenly realized that not only could she hear the Saiya-jin, she could see the expression on his face, his eyes wide with surprise as he stared at her…no, not her. He was actually looking a little to the left and above her position as a blonde figure was rising off of the floor and brushing herself off unceremoniously. It had been the first time she had been able to actually see what was going on when the other was in control. Her mind reeled with the awareness that she had no physical form anymore, that she was an entirely separate entity from the blonde, who didn't seem happy about the fact that she had woken up on the floor. If there had been any residual effects from the whack Vegeta had applied to her spine, she wasn't showing it. In fact, she swept herself up in one graceful motion and was already glaring disrespectfully at Raditzu.

"Shit, boss. You bring me all this way and don't even let me watch one of the fights? That's the last time..."

Raditzu's hand shot out and grasped the front of the metal collar around the blonde's neck. "Not another word," he barked, "or I'll…"

"When I heard you had that thing they didn't say anything about it being able to transform!" Nappa interrupted, apparently oblivious to the exchange going on between Raditzu and the blonde. All of his attention seemed to be on the readings coming through on his scouter. "It's stronger, too. Hey, wait a minute," he paused and aimed the eyepiece directly at Raditzu. "You're…"

"Forget it," Raditzu snapped. He was still staring down at the blonde, but he'd been speaking to Nappa. "I don't have to deal with you if I don't deem it necessary, and right now I don't. I'm getting the hell out of here and taking my property with me." He started dragging the blonde toward the nearest exit.

Lunch was still dealing with the mental vertigo of finding herself in some sort of non-physical state and able to watch what was obviously her other self. It had taken a moment for it to become clear that even in her apparitional state she was somehow tethered to the physical body that both personalities shared. She found herself being dragged right along with the blonde as she began to feel another force working on her consciousness.

Raditzu's power level was steadily rising, and she could feel it more acutely than she had when she'd been in control of a physical body. She could read the consternation on his features as he quickened his pace.

"You're not even going to find out what he wanted with me, are you?" asked the blonde in exasperation. She had even rolled her eyes to punctuate the comment. She had slumped into being a dead weight as though she couldn't be bothered to offer up any resistance to being hauled out of the building, but she wasn't interested in making it an easy task, either.

Raditzu abruptly stopped and turned back towards Nappa, who had taken off the scouter and was examining it as though looking for something broken.

"Fine. Guarantee me a fair fight and regen after and you can borrow the slave. I've decided it deserves whatever you're going to do with it." He grinned spitefully at the blonde. She just grinned back, undaunted.

"Given the choice between getting something described as 'not chump change' and an ass-kicking, you go and pick the ass-kicking. I shouldn't even be surprised. Whatever." The disembodied Lunch watched the exchange, completely nonplussed. Was her alter ego afraid of nothing?

"Let's just get out of the proximity of all the active scouters," Raditzu grumbled.

Nappa's head shot up from his attempts at finding the malfunction in the scouter. "So, there's actually nothing wrong with this thing." He slid the earpiece back on and adjusted the eyepiece, assessing the readings again before making a satisfied grunt. "I'd not agree to wasting my time on this but now I'm curious. Business I got's swamp side – nothing but low levels and indentured. Most won't have scouters." He looked thoughtful for half a second before his face broke into a cockeyed half smile. "The whole transformation angle just might make this interesting. That thing's even prettier… well, in a weird sort of way but… you're on Sub Commander." He made no pretense that use of the title was intended as anything other than sarcasm and gestured toward the exit.

The blonde turned her grin on the larger Saiya-jin. "Interesting is an understatement. At least you attempt to flatter me, unlike some people." She turned back to Raditzu and flashed him a sour look. "I'm willing to see what you're on about. Might even be fun." Nappa's scouter sounded an audible blip as Raditzu lost what little reign he had on his ki. "Oh," said the blonde, chuckling. "Looks like we're in a hurry."

As they headed out the door Nappa looked back over his shoulder and laughed. "Vegeta's right. You've got your hands full there!" Then he took to the air. Raditzu only scowled before he lifted the blonde under one arm and followed.

Disembodied or not, Lunch was speechless watching her counterpart. Now that she could read facial expressions along with hearing what was going on it all became clear. She was making a point to frustrate her Saiya-jin master, baiting him with one ruse after another and the tactic worked. The more exasperated he got, the more he just seemed to fall in line with what was on her agenda. She still wasn't sure what that agenda was, but she knew the slave collar interfaced with the scouters. Maybe with less scouters around she thought there would be more of a chance to escape, somehow.

--

AN: I know that was short, but real life has thrown me some curve balls. Just wanted to let any readers know I haven't abandoned this project.


	9. Bakuhatsuha

Here's another installment as requested. This one's a little strange, but that's what happens when you just let this stuff get written as it comes to mind (yes, there's very little in the way of planning involved in this – I have a backhoe standing by in the event of plotholes, so just let me know if you see any.) Anyway, I have so much going on these days I believe my brain is slowly turning into pasta primavera, so that's my excuse.

Ransom Due: Chapter 9 – Bakuhatsuha (or: Feieza 75 is for crabs.)

The difference between the capital city and the swamp-side of planet Frieza 75 was the difference between night and day back home. The place they had landed was little more than a filthy conglomeration of shanties, most of which were half sinking into the spongy ground. For a moment, Ranchi was thankful that she was bereft of physical senses save for sight and sound as she noticed both Saiya-jin wrinkle their noses in disgust upon landing. There were several more of the tiny 'scrubbers' hovering around her counterpart as well.

"I'm wondering," Raditzu had commented snidely to Nappa, "what business a former decorated general such as yourself would have in an obvious cesspool like this."

"You shouldn't get so high an' mighty about your present position," came the gruff reply, "the only reason you even have rank is to annoy Vegeta. Turns out it's working, too."

The blonde noticeably snickered at this, at which point Nappa raised an eyebrow and looked at Raditzu as if questioning why he put up with such insolence from his charge. Raditzu simply offered an exaggerated sigh before berating the larger Saiya-jin again.

"Please! As though I would rise to such paltry bait. Sometimes the worst thing you can do to it is ignore it as it seems to thrive on attention" All the while he made a big show of glaring at the malnourished denizens of the shanty town as they scurried out of the way of the two warriors, but Ranchi noticed that this was all a farce. His tail had given him away again. She could see that in reality he was giving her blonde counterpart the majority of his attention, and periodically he cast a wary glance at Nappa as well. This didn't seem to have escaped the blonde, either, as she watched him watching her, when she wasn't casting her eye calculatedly at every shadowed nook they passed, of which there were many.

Observing this, Ranchi wondered if Raditzu had in fact caught on to whatever game of wits the blonde thought she was playing. Moreover, though she knew it was highly likely that the tyrant Frieza had put him in a high ranking position that clearly was not his place in whatever rules Saiya-jin society followed in part to annoy Vegeta, she doubted it was the only reason. She had read enough of Missionary's ship's logs to gather that Daax was just barely competent in terms of running the ship. He was what they called a party boy back home, and left most administrative tasks of any importance to his underlings. Sure, it seemed like beating the tar out of his first officer was the only reason he had one, but the logs showed that the sub commander was the closest thing to a navigator that Missionary had. They would have been flying in proverbial circles without him. If she hadn't seen the logs, she wouldn't have believed it. On the surface, and most times beyond it as well, he just didn't seem to be that intelligent, and no one, least of all Raditzu himself, ever even so much as mentioned the fact that he did a damn good job with navigation. She had always just sort of assumed that he was either somewhat of an idiot savant or simply didn't care about any practical skills he had save for fighting skills. In retrospect, it was very much like the way his brother would pull off strategy during a fight regardless of the fact that most of the time he acted like there was little more than air between his ears.

After walking down several ill kept avenues and one narrow alleyway, they reached their final destination. The place was a larger version of the shacks they had passed thus far, except that it was up on stilts as it fronted what looked like a wide meandering canal. Over the front door a sign hung lopsidedly that read "Enoch Pratt's Book Exchange" in the crude phonetic language she'd learned quickly and come accustomed to reading on the ship. Even though the place looked like a total dive, it was obvious that it was the nerve center of the community. Patrons of every conceivable description were spilling out onto the rickety balconies that were precariously supported over the stinking canal.

The blonde and the two Saiya-jin pushed their way through the small crowd gathered in front of the entrance. Some of the assembled looked like they could have been formidable warriors themselves, though most of them looked almost as rough as the average denizens of the community. They were either not intimidated by the two Saiya-jin or, more likely, they were already emboldened by the drinks that were being sold from a large keg outside the establishment. All lot of them shot sour looks at the pair and she thought she heard some grumbling about the ale prices having been hiked. At this point Nappa, who'd been grinning like an idiot at the patrons despite their reception, put his arm around the blonde and said "Just make sure you look thrilled to be here."

"I'm ecstatic already. Couldn't you tell?" she replied sarcastically as she made to shrug his arm off.

He just pulled her closer, judging by her expression, painfully, and simply said "Don't." A dead serious, almost murderous expression crossed his features for a moment when he said it, but then he'd gone back to smiling vapidly. The blonde, having been persuaded into some form of submission or at least pretending to have been, followed suit accordingly.

Raditzu, unimpressed by the entire exchange, sighed loudly. "You never did tell me; why in hell's name do you want to hang around this dump?"

"Because," Nappa said in an exasperated tone, "unlike the state side of this planet this isn't completely boring. Cripes, only two other Saiyans in the entire universe and lucky me I end up with a couple 'a fucking kids. One thinks he's the all powerful Super Saiyan and the other would rather lock step with Frieza's goons than get out 'an have some fun. What a jip."

The blonde was obviously amused at this statement, but when Nappa's hand conveniently strayed down to her rear and squeezed her face contorted into a grimace.

"Hey!" she cried. Suddenly she was holding a snub-nosed revolver at point blank range to the big Saiyan's grinning mug.

Ranchi noticed that Raditzu looked a little more than peeved at the turn of events. He even opened his mouth to say something but then he shut it just as quickly, resigned to glaring at his comrade and the blonde.

"You're joking, right?" asked Nappa as he pried the weapon from her fingers and crumpled it as though it were made of paper. He threw the mashed chunk of metal over his shoulder carelessly as he gave her another piercing glare.

The blonde paled somewhat and shrugged. "Heh. Sorry. Force of habit."

"Ow," somebody in the back of the crowd yelped, apparently having been beaned by the discarded wad of former pistol. "Damn filthy Saiyan dogs!" someone else yelled, shaking a fist over the crowd, a few of whom grumbled in concurrence with the rabble rouser.

"What'd I tell ya." Nappa laughed. "Never a dull moment."

They'd finally reached the front door where they were stopped by a rather tall and svelte looking humanoid woman hefting what looked like a broadsword over her shoulder. What had looked like plate armor from a distance turned out to be a kind of reddish calcite shell that erupted from her skin in places, obviously a trademark of whatever her species was. Wispy pale yellow hair that reminded Ranchi of cornsilk hung to her shoulders.

"Nappa!" she greeted the larger Saiyan warmly. "I didn't think you'd darken this doorstep again in a thousand years, yet here you are. I'd say it was a pleasant surprise, except after what happened last time..." She stopped abruptly after getting a good look at the blonde, who was succeeding in looking like she was having the time of her life, as instructed. "I see," said the lady bouncer, "so you've brought help this time. Good idea since my sister has cursed your name daily. She swore she'd never so much as lift a finger for the likes of you again. Of course, I warned her about getting involved with you in the first place." She winked salaciously at him and smiled broadly, revealing a mouthful of pointy teeth that looked like they should belong to a shark.

Nappa laughed again and grinned back. "It's not like you ever minded..."

"Yes, but everyone already knows I have no taste whatsoever. Lenore should know better. Anyway, Pratt's in his office if you wanna check in." She gestured toward Raditzu. "I'll have someone get your friend a seat. The usual, I presume?"

"Of course."

The woman reached behind her and pulled a large metal ring attached to a chain. This released a mechanism that raised a rickety platform across a moat designed to restrict access to the building. She ushered the trio in, reminding them to enjoy their stay before hollering instructions to the next guard inside the doorway.

The guard, a male that looked similar to the woman at the outer door except slightly taller, gestured to a small door adjacent to the entryway, and then asked Raditzu to follow him to a large table in the back corner of the place. It was already occupied by several people, all of whom save one immediately cleared out when they saw the guard and the Saiyan approach. The unlucky straggler was starting to protest when the guard wordlessly made use of the sword like weapon he carried, cutting the man down in one stroke. No one in the place appeared to notice. Ranchi watched in shock at the sudden bloodshed as two boys, also of the same species as the guards, came running out of what appeared to be a kitchen entrance. One set down several bottles on the table while the other hurriedly mopped up what was left of the unfortunate protester. She watched her master look over the bottles and then open one before her consciousness seemed to be snatched back into the smaller room where Nappa had taken her counterpart.

The small room was almost lavish in contrast with the rest of the place. Shelves lining the wall bourgeoned with the weight of various books and rich looking trinkets. A portly man, much older than the guards as evidenced by the proliferation of calcite plates covering his body, sat behind a desk and was reading from a holoscreen ledger, a pair of what she thought were spectacles perched at the end of his pointy nose.

"Mmmmm, and Chircadian artifacts have increased in value over 3000 percent since your last visit," he said in a nasal voice punctuated by a raspy clicking noise. "I didn't expect it would be too difficult a suggestion to his lordship to clean that place out, and you and the princeling always do such and expedient job. Good, good. I suppose you'll be wanting your cut." He punched a few buttons on a portable data tablet, and then turned the holoscreen towards the Sayain to inspect.

"Huh," Nappa mumbled, "that's even better than I thought it would be."

"Yes, well my contractors managed to convince the leaders of several Chircadian provinces that it would be wise to trade a good portion of their artifacts in return for protection." The portly man chuckled, "too bad they just happened to be called away right when his Frieza Sama decided a purge was in order."

The blonde was looking less than comfortable as Nappa had kept his arm wrapped tightly around her waist and continued using any opening he got to be overly familiar with her. It seemed she had stopped putting forth an effort into acting as though it didn't bother her. Added to that, she was more than a little distracted by the contents of the room. Her gaze kept wandering over the things displayed on the shelves. There was one thing that her eyes went back to rest on several times. Oddly enough, it looked out of place, and if Ranchi hadn't had her attention drawn to it more than once, she would have assumed that someone misplaced it in the office instead of the kitchen. After another look though, it suddenly became clear why her counterpart had been drawn to it, and why it was kept with artifacts instead of the kitchen equipment.

The object was a large sized electric rice steamer, as mundane as any she had seen on chikyu, except for the smiling bunnies illustrated around its baby blue rim and the omamori tied there. She had just begun to think about all the possibilities the presence of such an object in that place could entail when she was distracted by the fact that the topic of conversation had turned to her counterpart.

"Where did you come by that?" The proprietor had asked, followed by several observations about fair market value in the flesh trade. "You're not still looking for something viable? Of course I don't subscribe to this opinion, but rumor is, your race is cursed. I just tend to think that if you didn't find what you were looking for here in my veritable paradise, you're simply not going to find it anywhere." He chuckled some more. "Terribly sorry about my youngest, she's a bit more headstrong than is good for her, but I swear if you had more time to perhaps force the issue, she'd come around eventually." At this the proprietor looked over the blonde with some consternation, as though mentally comparing what he had to offer with what the Saiya-jin already had acquired. "Perhaps if I gave her a little fatherly advice she'd..."

"Forget it. It's nothing to do with that, anyway," Nappa said in an exaggerated tone that suggested that whatever it was they were discussing had everything to do with his showing up with the blonde on his arm. "I just figured I'd try my hand at entering your little contest this evening and brought my own shucker under the assumption that my preferred choice would not be forthcoming with any such niceties." He smiled in obvious feigned amicability.

"Well, sir, you just go on and take a load off and we'll have a pallet out to you shortly. I suppose it couldn't hurt for this one to have a practice run before the contest as I'm sure it's unlikely to spoil your appetite. On the house, of course."

"Now, Pratt, you know I wouldn't have it any other way," Nappa replied as he steered the blonde toward the entryway of the office. He looked back at the proprietor for a moment as though to solidify the notion that "on the house" was not an option but an absolute.

When they reached the threshold and the door clicked shut behind them, Nappa suddenly and violently pinned the blonde to the wall just outside the office. "You don't look happy anymore," he growled in low tone, practically a whisper. Oddly, Ranchi heard this as if he had spoken directly into her ear, although it had seemed like she was viewing the two of them from several feet away. "Look, missy, you do like I tell you. I could tell you were scared when Vegeta pulled his little demonstration on you. You just keep in mind that I taught the little prince most of what he knows," he threatened. He looked like he was about to continue when he noticed a woman who looked very much like the bouncer they had met at the front door, except that her features were somewhat softer, approaching. All of a sudden he wrapped the blonde in both massive arms plus his tail and kissed her full on the lips. If she'd been physically there, Ranchi knew she'd have been paralyzed with shock. If there was a way for her disembodied form to have been abjectly gaping at the pair, she was.

The blonde seemed to have taken the whole thing in stride. She even leaned back against the wall and swooned slightly as if it was the most romantic thing that had ever happened to her, but Ranchi was able to discern the pulsing of a vein on her temple. She instinctively knew that in reality her counterpart was nothing short of livid. She knew things couldn't go well from then on out. There had been some small saving grace in that the view from the public area of the establishment was blocked. She cringed inwardly at the thought of her master having witnessed the scene. However, the woman approaching had seen the whole thing, apparently orchestrated especially for her benefit, up close.

"I can't believe you'd come in here with that… that thing and… You degenerate ass!" she screeched, then marched right up to the big Saiyan, stood up one her toes and unabashedly and fearlessly gave him an open handed slap right across his face. Then she yanked the door next to them open, stomped into the little office and slammed the door shut in her wake.

"Now that's what I expect," Nappa crowed as he pushed the blonde into the larger public room. "Perfect!"

"Do that again and I swear I'll find a way to make sure you wind up dead!" the blonde hissed under her breath.

"Right. Sure," he chuckled. The idiot grin had returned. "Watch carefully," he ordered and directed her attention to the table nearest them where two of the town's denizens sat. They each held what looked like a large nail which they were deftly using to crack open some kind of crustaceans one after the other, discarding the shells on the floor after slurping up their contents. "Tell you what," he said in feigned joviality, "you open those things fast enough to keep up with me and you won't wind up dead."

"Fine," the blonde pouted a little, "looks easy enough." She grumbled some but kept a convincing smile pasted on as they pushed their way to the back of the room and joined Raditzu at the corner table. "So, basically you dragged us out to this stink hole to participate in some kind of demented eating contest?" the blonde asked as she gave her master an exaggerated sidelong glance as if to say 'are you sure you really want to waste your time with this?' She turned back to Nappa and smirked. "Oh, and lets not forget about making the crab-faced wait staff jealous. Boss, did I hear you right earlier? This guy used to be a general in your army or whatever? I find it hard to imagine him leading…"

To Ranchi's relief Nappa interrupted her before she could do any more verbal damage. "Sheesh, Raditz, you let this thing smart off like this all the time?"

"You're the one who wanted to borrow it." By the looks of the still full bottles on the table, Raditzu been nursing the first one, but he finished it in two swallows at that point and shook his head in vexation as though he'd come to the same conclusion about ensuing trouble that Ranchi had and had summarily resigned himself to it. "Just make sure and keep your end of the bargain."

The two boys had returned from the kitchen each carrying one end of a large wooden try, heaped high with the odd looking shellfish. They deposited it and one of the rudimentary opening devices on the table. The blonde picked up the opener and absentmindedly twirled it between her fingers before going to work on the pile. "Why do you need me for this, anyway?" she asked, already well into the task of flipping open the shells as though it were second nature.

Nappa, apparently not wont to interrupt his enjoyment of eating, replied by simply picking up one of the things still in its shell and made to flip open the top half with a thumbnail. The shell summarily shattered into tiny pieces, crushing the meat into a slimy pulp.

"And I suppose eating them whole is against the rules," she added dryly.

Nappa nodded in the affirmative. By that point, they'd made short work of the first round and he leaned back in his chair, seemingly satisfied with her performance. "You may yet live through this," he said offhandedly.

Raditzu was roused from what seemed to be a stupor of boredom at the comment. "I said you could borrow it, not terminate it!"

"Yeah, well I'm surprised you've let it live this long, anyway. What's the big deal? Oh… that's right, lower levels aren't used to owning property."

"Nonetheless, I reserve the right." The two Saiyans exchanged challenging glances. While they were distracted, Ranchi noticed the blonde reach out and quickly palm the lid from the first bottle Radtzu had opened. The boys had returned with another tray. Before they retreated to the kitchen, the woman from outside the office sauntered up to the table, slapping down a stack of paper credits.

"You might as well forfeit," she declared, pointing an accusatory finger at Nappa. "You bleed this place dry as it is, I'm not letting you walk out of here with that prize money, so you might as well take a good look at it now." Ranchi noticed that the woman's finger was tipped with a pointy fingernail that looked very much like the tool provided to open the shellfish. She also noticed that the blonde seemed to be weighing the option of swiping the stack of credits off the table top. Instead, she turned to the woman and gloated.

"Bring it, pasty face. Twice that wager says we clean this place out completely before it's all over with." She sidled up a little closer to Nappa and rested her head on his shoulder affectionately. Ranchi could have sworn she heard a low growl erupt from Raditzu, who eyed the blonde with undisguised malice.

If Nappa was aware of his comrade's disquiet, he didn't show it. He laughed and took up where the blonde left off. "You heard her, Lenore. Perhaps it's you who should forfeit before you get started."

"Pfft!" The woman tossed her head sending a cascade of wispy hair back over her shoulder. "She doesn't have anything to wager." She indicated the slave collar with the still pointing finger. "Not that I'd be intimidated, anyway." She scooped the credits back up off the table.

"What I have to wager isn't the point," the blonde countered. "You can't win and that's all there is to it."

"We'll see about that." The woman gestured to the boys to count her into the contest and took up a seat at a nearby table, evicting another hapless customer.

"Don't tell me that's what you're after here?" Raditzu grumbled at Nappa, even though he was still glaring at the blonde. She returned a sickeningly sweet look, pretending total innocence in the whole affair.

"What? You squeamish or something?" Nappa asked as though this were nothing out of the ordinary.

"No," came the indignant reply. "I'd be the last one to deny that the body has its needs, but this seems like an awful lot of trouble to go to."

"These are a lot more resilient than they look, and they're really fun when they're mad. Trust me, that one's a total firecracker. Besides, they're supposed to be extremely prolific. Nothing's materialized yet, but you never know."

"What? Are you telling me you're actually _trying_ to sire hybrids?" Indignation was swiftly turning into incredulity. "Aside from it being highly implausible, it's just madness. Why would you even want to…?"

"Eh. At this point I figure better a tainted bloodline than a dead one. I lost all the progeny I had when Vegetasei was destroyed. I figure I may as well get started trying to fix that being that chances are so slim anyway. In a life where I find myself outranked by the likes of you, it doesn't seem all that outlandish, really."

"Why don't you just exercise some patience until some more survivors are found? It can't be too much longer before…"

"I've searched extensively. There are no more survivors."

"What are you talking about? Kakarott…"

"Kakarott's a fluke. Besides, last I heard he ain't female, so I'm not interested."

After that the contest started uneventfully aside from the jilted Lenore and the blonde shooting daggers at each other with their eyes as the two of them seemed evenly matched at de-shelling. Surprisingly the deceivingly skinny female appeared to match the big Saiyan in consuming the shellfish as well. Just when everything seemed to be going smoothly, or as smoothly as could have been expected in such a situation, the blonde unobtrusively flicked the bottle cap she'd retrieved earlier with enough force to fly across the distance to a nearby table and painfully smack the side of the head of one of the customers who'd been ousted from their table earlier.

The target picked up the bottle cap to get a look at what had hit him, easily recognizing that it went to the bottles Raditzu had been served earlier. "That's it!" he roared in a slurred voice as he flew out of his chair, which went sailing out behind him. "You over-glorified monkeys come in here like you own the place…" He didn't get to finish as the chair had rammed into someone at the next table, who wasted no time in jumping him, fists flying. Within the space of a few moments, the whole place had erupted into a full scale riot. The two Saiya-jin, who could have easily vaporized the whole lot, seemed only too happy to take the opportunity to engage in good old fashioned fisticuffs, at least at the outset.

The blonde had ducked under the table first, and then began to navigate her way across the floor on her belly through the tangle of skirmishing patrons. When she reached the threshold of the small office, she got to her feet and took the pointy end of the nail like opener and stabbed it into the side of the slave collar. She momentarily went into convulsions as the thing overloaded and shocked her. Simultaneously, a loud pop issued from the other side of the room as the feedback overloaded Raditzu's scouter, causing a small explosion.

"Son of a…!" Ranchi was sure she could hear her master's curses over the din, but the next thing she knew she was in the small office again as the blonde had regained her wits and moved on. The ungainly Pratt was standing behind his desk, outraged at the violation of his personal domain. The blonde suddenly produced an older model M-16 semi-auto and pointed it at him with one hand while reaching back and jamming the door shut with a small end table that had been conveniently located near the entrance. Even if the weapon wouldn't have had an effect on him, Pratt must have been unfamiliar with it as he raised both hands in submission.

"Well, well. You surprise me with your tenacity, so what can I do for you?" he stammered. The blonde used her free hand to untie the red scarf she routinely wore in her hair. It unrolled, revealing a small capsule, which she popped open, producing a military issued rucksack already half full with what Ranchi guessed were items stolen from various other planets.

"Just fill it up," the blonde ordered. Pratt moved toward the closest shelf when the blonde stopped him. "That first," she said indicating the rice cooker. Pratt tossed it into the sack as directed and proceeded to rake other items off of the shelf after it. Just as the blonde took the opportunity to glance back at the door to make sure her makeshift lock was holding, Pratt attempted to rush her. She reacted quickly, laying on the trigger of the M-16. Bullets sprayed the large target he presented, but they bounced off his natural armor harmlessly.

"Ha!" he yelled in triumph as he reached her, fingernails bared to rake at her.

"Wrong." She countered without hesitation as she thrust the barrel of the gun between two of the armored plates where they met at his neck and fired. He slumped to the ground as a fountain of violet colored gore sprayed out behind him.

The blonde wasted no time in encapsulating the now full rucksack and enfolding the capsule in the scarf, which she tied back in her hair. She utilized the weapon again, perforating the far wall of the office with holes before kicking at the wood to create an opening large enough for her to slip through. At that moment, the door to the office crashed open and the bouncer from the front door came running in, perhaps alerted by the gunfire. Pratt, still splayed out on the floor, but somehow not yet deceased lifted his head and gurgled "Harriet, stop her!" She gave pause just long enough for the blonde to hoist herself out the exit she'd created and scuttle up the roughshod outside wall to the roof as the place was surrounded by the reeking canal. In continuation of what seemed to be her inexhaustible luck, a hovercraft, presumably Pratt's, was parked at the far end of the roof. The bouncer had hastily followed her, appearing doubly fueled with anger at the death of the proprietor. The two ended up in a standoff on the rooftop.

The bouncer swiped at the blonde in a rage with her overly large blade, but there was already enough distance between the two to render the effort ineffective.

The blonde reacted by leveling the gun still in her grip at the bouncer. "Looks like you brought a knife to a gunfight," she said.

The bouncer just grinned her shark's smile. "Oh, no, honey. It's you who's brought a gun to a knife fight." She brandished the blade again, this time her arm stretched to twice its length as she stabbed at the blonde.

Ranchi watched as her counterpart parried the thrust with the butt end of the gun, but the blade sliced right through the metal easily. With egress being her main objective, the blonde dropped what remained of the weapon and evaded the bouncer's attack while backing toward the waiting hovercraft. Unexpectedly, the part of the roof directly behind her exploded in a fountain of ki energy and debris while she was in mid stride. She lost her balance and plummeted backward through the resulting hole, and much to Ranchi's dismay, sneezed forcefully on the way down.

She felt herself snatched back into the physical plane as if being hit by a ton of bricks and gasped, fully expecting to land hard on the ground, but the impact never happened. Instead she found herself in the grasp of her master's arms. She looked up at him in surprise as he looked back at her through the lens of a scouter. She had only half a moment to realize that he must have borrowed it from Napppa and tracked her counterpart on the roof. She had landed in what had become the center of the melee her counterpart had started, as every single person in the place seemed to have focused their ire on the two Saiya-jin.

"Aw, to hell with this," muttered Nappa, who was right beside them. He stepped forward and raised two fingers.

She thought she saw Raditzu's eyes widen in alarm for a split second. "Shit!" he exclaimed as she suddenly found herself engulfed in the white-hot energy of his aura. She squeezed her eyes shut against the maelstrom and prayed that it would all be over with quickly. No more than a few seconds could have passed between the time she'd fallen through the roof and when he finally powered down, but it seemed like hours.

When the tumult subsided, she opened one eye halfway to hazard a look around. The first thing she saw was her master, looking down at her in what she thought was distress as she realized that she was still clinging to him tightly as though he was the only safe port in a raging storm. She had fully expected him to just drop her on the ground at that point but instead, strangely, he gently set her down on her feet. It was then that she got a full look around. There was nothing but scorched earth, as far as the eye could see. Even the canal had completely dried up. The three of them stood in a crater, the rim of which stretched to the horizon.

"What the hell was that for!" Raditzu yelled at Nappa while she was regaining her balance on legs that she thought were going to give out on her.

"Eh. I was getting bored." The big man shrugged and scratched the back of his bald head.

"You mean you were just now starting to find this excursion tedious? Well, if you're finished wasting time on inanities…" Raditzu took up a fighting stance.

"Are you sure you still wanna do this?" Nappa asked, clearly not taking the younger warrior seriously. "I'm assuming you wanna test out your higher power level, but surely you could find a way that would be… uh, safer?" He looked back at his would be opponent as if to give him a chance to back out of the challenge. Seeing that it wasn't going to happen, he shrugged again. "Alright then," he sighed, and the next thing Ranchi knew, the two were locked in battle… somewhere. She couldn't see them as they were moving so fast, except for the occasional lull when they clashed and wound up wailing on each other at close quarters.

Her instinct was to get as far out of their way as possible, but there was nowhere to go, really. She looked around, half panicked. There was absolutely no cover, and she could've walked for miles and it would only be more of the same. She knew from experience that the range of the fight itself could span miles at the rate they were going. She finally gave up and just sat down on the ground to wait, hoping that she wouldn't end up caught in between the brawl.

She hadn't been waiting long when something landed hard on the ground, a few yards away from her. She looked over and gasped again. It was her master, battered and bloodied from head to toe. It looked as though he'd landed flat on his back from quite a distance. He groaned sharply and attempted to roll over, but wasn't able to as one legjutted out in an unnatural direction. To her surprise, he started to laugh, but ended up coughing up a bloody mess and spitting it in the dust beside him. She remembered that he'd already ignored some mild form of injury after his fight in the tournament and wondered if there was any way to even get him somewhere where the damage could be mended. As she sat and debated what to do, something touched down lightly on the other side of her. She turned to see Nappa, hardly a scratch on him, eyeing the two of them as though they were little more than prey. He wiped his hands together as though satisfied at having finished a routine task.

"See, now that was hardly even fun. And ya know what, a guy goes to all the trouble to get a little companionship from the fairer sex and comes up empty, that's a real shame. Well, I thought about it and decided even though it might not last very long, that'll do." He leveled his gaze at Ranchi. "Being that it's at fault here and there's really nothing you can do to stop me."

He took a step towards her and she backpedaled on what had become dusty ground. Her breath was coming in ragged, burning gasps that tasted like sulfur and she realized that only one of the little scrubbers had survived the earlier destruction. She looked back over her shoulder in the hope that there would have been any sort of salvation from her master. Amazingly, he had managed to turn over and sit up slightly. He winced as he wrenched his broken leg back he way it belonged. He choked out a short laugh, at least feigning amusement.

"You duplicitous bastard," he said to Nappa in reproach. "I knew you'd go back on our deal, especially after all your crazy talk earlier. You haven't got a shred of honor left to your name, have you?"

All of a sudden, she was overcome by a burning rage, which was entirely an unfamiliar feeling to her. Her mind flooded with disbelief and hate directed toward the crippled Saiya-jin behind her. By the unwritten rules that he'd claimed to follow, he was supposed to have been at least a little bit responsible for her. She had done everything he'd asked, no, demanded of her during the past several years and now if she somehow happened to survive suffocating on the poison air, what could only be a horrible death awaited her at the hands of his comrade, and if he even cared he thought it was funny. The venomous thoughts swirled in her mind as Nappa reached down to retrieve her from the ground.

And then everything went dark as she fell into one of the spaces in between, the place she went when the other took control, where there was nothing and thankfully she'd never remember what happened as consciousness slipped out of her grasp.

Sorry to leave this on a cliffhanger as it may be another little while untilI can work on it some more, but I will definately get back to it. Promise.

Thanks to my reviewers, especially chikyu for putting a fire under my bum to write some more. I needed it, anyway.


	10. Bathwater

Ransom Due – Chapter 10 – Bathwater

"There will always be survivors." - Robert Heinlen

* * *

When she opened her eyes she was greeted by the sight of her own hands clutching two small curved blades, both of which were glazed with blood. She was only dimly aware that she was still in the epicenter of the crater Nappa had created where there used to be an expansive swamp on the then dark side of planet Frieza 75. She found herself staring at the blades and the blood, horrified, her mind refusing to really accept that the extremities were in fact hers. She had no time to get her bearings in any case; her bewilderment was cut short by a sharp command.

"Lunch, move!"

She looked up just in time to get a glimpse of an enormous cone of ki energy as it streaked towards her. The next thing she knew it was thundering past below her as something had swept her off her feet and straight up into the air several hundred yards in the space of a half second. Her ears popped painfully with the change in altitude, adding to her disorientation. She had then seen the expanse of the crater and the source of the blast. Nappa was staggering around almost directly below, both hands clutched to his face.

"I'll kill you! I'll kill you both for this!"

The big Saiya-jin's threats were slung upward, followed by another wildly aimed wave of ki from his open mouth. It screamed past just to her left, close enough that she felt a burst of warmth along with it.

"Damn! That was way too close." She was only dimly aware of the voice, deep and familiar, and the solid grip that suspended her so far off the ground. Her gaze drifted to her hands again as they went slack and the blades slid from her grasp and tumbled to the ground that became blurred beneath as she was carried away.

The flight proved to be a short one, and she found herself deposited on sandy ground beneath the cover of some thick underbrush that was covered in thorns. She absently thought that she must have been scratched all over by the barbs, but the pain didn't register. She was too immersed in the sickening thought of her hands laced with blood. It seemed as if it was supposed to mean something, but she couldn't place her finger on what, and it only became more difficult to make sense of it the more she thought about it.

"Fool! Haven't you heard a word I've said?"

"Uh…?" She rasped, sulfur clogging her throat as she tried to focus on the voice addressing her. Her eyes were burning and the figure in front of her was little more than a smudge to her perception, although she could tell it was leaning hard on the trunk of a stunted tree. She was reminded then of her master's horribly broken leg and vaguely remembered that she had been at death's door, and probably still was because of the planet's noxious atmosphere. She shivered in a sudden cold sweat. Another wave of vertigo swept over her as she tried to speak, but all that she produced was an additional feeble croak.

She thought she heard her master issue another stream of curses, and then they were airborne again for what seemed like a short time before they landed, this time in a place that seemed to have more overgrowth. After she was set down she relinquished the effort of sitting up and lay prone on the ground. She stared up into the inky violet of the brightening sky. She noticed several small red lights whipping around above her head and gathered they must be getting nearer to civilization. Her head seemed to clear a little bit and she noticed that the air didn't seem to taste so acrid anymore. She wiped at her stinging eyes and tried to make out more of her surroundings.

They appeared to be at the edge of what might have once been agricultural land or else a natural rolling meadow of sorts. A small copse of sagging trees with amber fern like leaves concealed their position from the air. The ground beneath was carpeted in a soft ocher moss. The sound of running water caught her attention and she turned her head to see a small creek, somewhat murky with sediment yet much clearer than the canal in the swampland had been. The burbling sound of the water made her throat feel all that much drier, to the point where she couldn't resist the idea of drinking from what had become a very inviting stream. She rolled over to her stomach and managed to get up on her hands and knees and crawled to the edge of the water. She plunged both arms in up to the elbows and scrubbed wildly, although the blood had rinsed away easily, before cupping her hands to drink.

"Please tell me you're not such an idiot that you'd drink that." Raditzu sat at the base of a large boulder tinged amber with lichens next to the creek.

"I…" She attempted to reply but it came out as little more than a wheeze punctuated by a hacking cough. He cut her off anyway.

"It will only serve to cake your throat more thoroughly with sulfur if the parasites don't turn your bowel inside out first." He sniffed as though trying to punctuate his superior knowledge of the locality but ended up hacking a few times himself before spitting yet another glob of bloody phlegm to the ground beside him. "Though why I care if you poison yourself is quite a mystery to me. Heh. It seems to have become somewhat of a running joke, don't you think?"

She tried not to stare as she knew how much he hated that, but the extent of his injuries held her attention for longer than she should have let it. One eye was almost swollen shut behind the lens of the borrowed scouter, and the other side of his face looked as though it had been scraped horribly or was just crusted in dried blood. Rivulets of blood also traced from both corners of his mouth. It looked as though he had attempted to splint the broken leg at their last stop with strips of bark and the thorny vines she remembered. Sweat stood out on his forehead and streamed down from his temples mingling with the blood. She watched almost mesmerized as the partially shattered chest plate of his armor heaved slowly with his labored breathing.

What she could see of his eyebrows suddenly knitted sharply as he lurched to his feet and limped, a lot more swiftly than she thought possible, over to her position. She flinched and quickly looked away at his approach, automatically expecting some kind of physical blow, but he simply wordlessly hefted her up and took to the air once more.

She was still trying to make sense out of what had happened. "Waking up" in strange places in the middle of doing even stranger things had become a simple fact of life for her. She couldn't even remember when, if ever, it hadn't been so. She had actually found it somewhat difficult to deal with overhearing her counterpart during her lapses, let alone being completely privy to everything that happened. The things that the other did were completely insane, things she wouldn't even think of doing let alone carrying out. And the things that she said? It was completely inconceivable on many levels that she had survived so long under her master's thumb considering the near constant scathing diatribes that seemed to fall from the other's lips without any hesitation whatsoever. She construed that she should have been reeling in a state of semi-shock just knowing the course of the evening's events. Maybe it was because of whatever happenstance had caused her to be able to witness the other as though from afar, but this return to consciousness seemed vastly different from all the others, as though she had literally fought her way to the surface of a bottomless pit.

She replayed what she could in her mind's eye, trying to piece together events enough to know how to proceed in the situation at hand. As she did, two things struck her as out of the ordinary. First, the fact that her master had actually saved her from certain death by snatching her up into the air in the initial midst of her confusion. Not only that, but it was the only time she knew of that he had called her by name, any name, since fate had thrown them together. Second, she had been able to take several normal breaths and could see clearly immediately after regaining control, as though the effects if the poison atmosphere had abated, if just for a short while, before they hit her full force again.

By the time they reached the city proper, she decided that she was only more confused about the whole thing than when she had started. All she knew for sure was that she got a terrible sinking feeling in her gut just thinking about the episode.

They continued on to the outskirts of the city where the vast docking stations for visiting spacecraft were located. By the time they landed near the gangplank leading to Missionary's primary airlock, the small white sun had broken the horizon and the sky had lightened to a dazzling amethyst. What had been a balmy evening was fast turning to a sweltering, humid morning. She gathered that by the time the sun reached its zenith the entire locale would become a deleterious sulfuric sauna.

Upon entering the ship they were greeted by a rush of cool air as the climate control system was automatically running to offset the already oppressive heat of the day. She tacitly allowed herself to be dragged along as they made their way to the medical unit at a pace that had degenerated to a slow lurch. The entire ship seemed eerily quiet as most of the crew had been granted some kind of shore leave for the tournament event. When they arrived there, the first thing Raditzu did was push her roughly into one of the regen tanks and slam the hatch shut. Thankfully, the medical technician had returned earlier than most after what had probably been a grueling stint manning a regen tank at the arena. She looked at the flustered Saiya-jin questioningly for a moment, she wouldn't have dared to actually voice her concerns, and then proceeded to set the controls for the chamber.

Raditzu immediately turned on the technician. "Idiot!" he ranted "Tend to me. You know it would cost me the price of ten slaves to run a cycle on that chamber, and such use is highly discouraged. I just put it in there because I can't trust leaving it to its own devices for a minute let alone the time required for a regen cycle. I believe its injuries are incidental, it'll survive anyway." The technician gave her a pitying sidelong glance through the chamber's glass dome. Clearly she didn't trust the Saiya-jin's prognosis, but there was nothing to be done about it. She turned away and went on to prep the next chamber. "If I find that thing has moved by the time I get out of here, punishment will fall on your head," he threatened as he stepped inside.

Accompanied only by the hollow sound of the respiration system of his chamber as it worked, Ranchi found her sense of impending doom only worsened as she waited for the cycle to finish. She knew he had already been angry by the end of the tournament. Knowing exactly what the other had done after that only made the sense that she should be walking on eggshells all the more acute.

When the cycle finished, she was able to see him step out, ki flaring for a split second to speed the evaporation of excess fluid from the chamber. He hardly bothered with dressing, not that he tended to wear much more than standard issue armor anyway, hastily throwing on the usual black briefs and retrieving the scouter before focusing all his attention on her. She instinctively pressed herself to the back wall of the chamber as he jerked the hatch open and reached for her. Before she knew what was happening, he had her by the hair at the nape of her neck and was pushing her down the corridors towards his barracks. She was reminded that ignorance would have been bliss as suddenly the existence of the capsule full of stolen goods hidden so close to where he had a hold of her came to mind.

"What's the matter? You didn't think I was going to let the old General get his hands on you, hmm?" he chided in a deceptively gentle tone.

"I, uh…" she realized her voice was shaky, and she didn't really know what to say anyhow.

"How silly," he continued. "Of course I would have killed you myself before I let something like that happen."

By then they had reached his quarters and he pushed her inside. His free hand reached up to scroll through something on the scouter, then he let go of her hair and slid his hand down to the collar at her neck, sliding two fingers underneath it to release the locking mechanism. He tossed it and the scouter onto his desk and then pointed her in the direction of the small washroom that was a standard attachment to only an officer's room.

"You're filthy. Clean up," he ordered.

She took a tentative step backward, not knowing how to react. Being offered the use of his private facilities would normally have been considered a rare privilege.

"Well? Hurry up," he barked. "I don't have all day here."

"Ah… a-aren't you going to turn around?" She stammered, even as she realized that she shouldn't really be questioning him at all, but it was too late.

"No." He growled. "As it seems any number of things could happen the moment I take my eyes off of you, modesty seems beside the point, does it not?"

It occurred to her that he was right becausemortified as she was knowing he was watching, modesty was the least of her concern because she was going to have to do something with the capsule full of stolen goods. Leaving the scarf in her hair while in the shower would undoubtedly seem odd, and she really couldn't pass up the chance to wash her hair. She opted to turn around herself, hoping he wouldn't notice that she kept the scarf with her when she tossed aside her clothes after shedding them. She hurried into the small compartment and set it down on a ledge near the shower, deciding she would simply replace it when she was finished and just pray he didn't find anything strange about it since she had worn it all the time.

Despite the harrowing circumstances and the initial sting of hot water on the various scratches and abrasions she'd sustained, the shower was wonderful. For a moment she was almost able to relax as she let the steam clear her throat somewhat and she washed away the sheen of sulfuric dust that had clung to her over the course of the evening. She was loathe to finish up, but she dared not take any more time than was necessary. She stepped out gingerly, glad that she was familiar enough with the room form having cleaned it to know where to find a towel quickly. She hastily dried off and wrapped herself up, then pushed her wet hair back in the scarf.

Raditzu hadn't moved. He leaned against his desk, still watching her through narrowed eyes as though she would try tearing out of the room or worse at any moment. Unsure of what was expected of her, and well beyond too terrified to ask, she stayed put. It was only half a moment that felt like an eternity before he beckoned her with a slight gesture of his hand. She balked at the notion yet had no choice but to comply.

She had barely crossed the threshold when she found herself pinned to the wall nearest the desk by something constricting her about the waist. She cried out and clawed at it unconsciously, realizing too late that in doing so she had dropped the towel and the unfamiliar prickly feeling against her bare skin was the coarse fur on his tail. The next thing she knew he had a fistful of her hair again. He pulled it roughly to turn her face up to his.

"Look at me!" he demanded. Being an uncharacteristic request from him, she hesitated.

"You look me in the eye," he demanded again, "and you tell me how." His grip tightened slightly and his arm shook as though he were using any sense of restraint he had to keep his anger from exploding. "How is it that you could draw blood draw blood from an elite warrior?"

She had no idea how to even begin to answer such a question and, terrified almost beyond reason, she felt the sting of tears in her eyes. Knowing that weeping would most likely do more harm than good, she bit down hard on her lower lip in attempt to staunch the flow as she looked up at him. He pressed closer to her and continued his demands.

"And how is it that you manage to vex me so?" His voice dropped to a husky whisper. "I have half a mind to find out just how fragile you really are." His eyes burned into hers, filled with intensity from a mixture of anger and obvious arousal. "Trust me. There is no limit to the depravities I could force you to endure if I knew you would survive them."

At that point she lost any control she had. She struggled futilely as tears spilled and a quiet whimper escaped her. She found herself begging in earnest for some kind of mercy, hardly hearing her own words. "Please! I don't know how any of this happened, just don't hurt me I…" She was still grasping wildly at his tail, which suddenly relaxed.

"Bah! If you can't even manage to deter me in such a manner, there's just no point." He pried her fingers from his tail, and then released her completely. She slumped to a sobbing heap on the floor. He prodded her with his foot. "Huh. Pathetic," he sneered before lifting her up under one arm and carrying her out of the room and down the corridor to her own quarters where he left her. Before he shut and locked the door behind him, in a cold, empty tone he said, "You will not speak of this. Ever."

She threw herself down on the small bare mattress in the room, the dire helplessness of her situation suddenly painfully apparent. Worse still, it seemed even his curt rejection stung on top of everything else. She was suddenly terribly cold. She drew her knees up to her chest and wrapped her arms around them and cried until exhaustion overtook her.

As she slept, she dreamt of running through the ship's corridors, which seemed to be an endless, unfamiliar maze, pursued by something she couldn't quite identify but which carried with it an empty darkness that threatened to engulf her. She finally came to a portal, which she wrested shut to keep the thing a bay, and there she came face to face with her counterpart who stood at the door, a long rifle supported at her shoulder as though at guard.

"You know that we're both going to die if that thing gets through this door," she said flatly to the blonde.

"Well, I've been trying to cover you. Besides, keeping that door shut is your job, not mine. I just run interference." The reply was not venomous, in fact, it was almost completely devoid of any emotion.

She could feel the force of something heave at the other side of the door as she put every ounce of strength into pulling it to. Then she suddenly woke, her heart pounding wildly. The room was deathly quiet save for the subtle hum of the ship's engines as it seemed they were well underway to their next destination.

She took a couple of slow, deep breaths in an attempt to calm herself and wound up coughing. It seemed as though every part of her ached and upon further inspection she was covered in scratches and bruises, but at least she wasn't so cold anymore. Someone had apparently visited while she slept, covering her in a blanket and leaving a clean change of clothes and some dry rations. She gathered that it had been her master as only officers had the codes to unlock portals on the ship and she was relatively sure the captain didn't really care what happened to her now that squad 57 had officially "disbanded" after the mission on Andolonusia. More aptly put, she was the only surviving member of the squad.

The rations were enough for one day. Judging by what became terrible hunger pains, it was several before her master returned. When he finally did, it was only for a brief visit and it seemed from the exchange that if any more provisions would be coming anytime soon, they would be few.

"I've made a decision," he announced sanctimoniously as he stepped just inside the room letting the door lock behind him again. She put an effort into keeping her eyes respectfully downcast but briefly noticed that he was avoiding looking directly at her as well. "Within the next few standard hours we will be arriving at an outpost station on the edge of a vast rift in space. The captain has allowed me the leeway to choose between disembarking in my pod to plot a shortened course directly across the rift to your planet or remaining on board for the standard year it will take for the ship to go around. I have chosen the former. As such, you will not accompany me. You will remain here until my return…"

"I… I don't understand. You said before that…"

"You are not required to understand, you are only to obey me without question!" He advanced on her a step as he railed and she realized that she had neglected to react to his threats or even worry about having questioned him as though a heavy void had settled on her that by comparison rendered anything he was going to do incidental. She suddenly stopped bothering to process what he had just said to her and just accepted it as fact. The solitary thought passed through her mind that this was what it was to be completely broken, followed directly by the recognition of the feeling in an almost overwhelming sense of déjà vu.

He seemed to note this and composed himself, continuing. "You will not leave this ship, this room, unless I command it, which will be seldom if ever. Whatever it is that Kakarott is doing on your world, however he has insinuated himself upon your people, if for some reason he wants a souvenir, he's going to have to pay top dollar. Credits he will have to earn in service to the trade. So everything works out quite nicely." He frowned slightly, abruptly changing his tone. "Believe me when I tell you that finding yourself as the very last of your race brings with it a burden of loneliness that is nearly unbearable."

He turned to leave then, but paused, not turning before closing the portal, to add invectively, "Of course, if Kakarott has no interest there's always Zarbon. He seemed taken with you. Rumor has it he keeps a collection of living 'rarities' in permanent stasis."

She sat in near shock for an undetermined period, the finality of what he had said actually slowly dawning on her. This was the end. Within a few hours there would be no more chance of a life other than this except maybe something worse. A picture suddenly materialized in her mind's eye of the dream and her relinquishing her pull on the portal door and she was overcome with resolve not to let that happen. Whatever else she would have to face, making sure that whatever was on the other side never saw the light of day was paramount. Everything else she could take in stride if necessary.

You might be willing to lie down and take it but I'm not!> The statement surfaced in her mind abruptly and her nose started to itch furiously without warning. She gasped and covered her mouth and nose with her hand.

You can't! It'll only make things worse!> she screamed mentally in return even as her efforts were rendered unsuccessful.

* * *

AN: 

el -Thank you very much for the review. I'm glad you are enjoying the story. I'm blown away that you like it enough to rave about it. It's always hard to tell if I'm going in the right direction since for the most part I'm just letting this run on the course it seems to want to take. I can tell you though that I plan on giving Nappa a fair turn in this eventually so I'm glad you liked that too.I'm jealous that you have a beta reader -

my kingdom for a beta reader! Anybody wants the job, let me know.

Rejhan - thank you again for the ongoing reviews. Hopefully this chapter made it a little clearer as far as what the characters have going on between them. I have to admit I'm a little anxious to add the fourth piece of the dynamic (Tenshinhan), though I'm not yet sure just how that's going to pan out.

chikyu - thanks for your review on the last chapter too. I'm not quitting working on this anytime soon, I'm just slow. I started with every intention of finishing.

I apologise for the lapse of time between updates. I have a lot of other things going on currently and I try to update as I can, I hope my readers can just be patient with me.


	11. Gremlins

Ranchi thought during the one experience that she had witnessed her counterpart's actions, that seeing everything made her uncomfortable. She quickly found it maddening that she could only hear what the blonde did when she knew the possibility of watching her existed. She tried to decipher the sounds she heard, but having no clue as to what her counterpart had in mind for whatever disaster she planned to orchestrate, Ranchi began guessing. However, the Other clearly had a plan. Things happened at methodical and precise pace. She heard the familiar 'pop' of a capsule being opened, the first truly recognizable sound in a string of unfamiliar ones. She surmised it came from the capsule full of stolen goods from planet Freiza 75. Next came the shuffling of items being sorted. As she worked, the counterpart quietly sang in a moderately off key yet steady voice.

Next she heard a sharp grating like steel on steel, perhaps the drawing of a blade from a scabbard. She vaguely remembered such a thing from Pratt's collection. The sound of something tearing, possibly the mattress cover, came next.

Another 'pop' sounded, obviously another capsule, then the standard audible from a scouter rebooting.

A distinct humming began and stopped abruptly, one that took her a moment to place as the quantum charge of a concussion gun, then a second similar one.

Another string of electronic peeping noises, followed by the chirp of the scouter again. The particular cycle repeated several times before it occurred to her that it must be some sort of synchronization process.

Something heavy and unwieldy dragged across the floor, probably the mattress, then a few muffled thumps, the rattling of things being replaced in a bag and the familiar sound of air being displaced as something returned to one of the capsules.

Immediately after the last verse of the song ended, a horribly loud blast echoed through the small space. A short pause followed.

"Heh. Alrighty then," the counterpart said under her breath without any hit of apprehension. "Game on."

After the sound of a few quick, solitary footsteps echoing through the corridor, a drawn out space of silence preceded the woosh of a portal opening a distance away.

"Gee, boss, don't tell me you're loosing your edge. It took like," a short pause as if she were checking, "at least twenty seconds longer for you to come running than I thought it would."

"Just what in the hell do you think you're doing?" Ranchi recoiled inwardly at the seething maliciousness of her master's voice. The threat implied by his tone in and of itself served as more than enough to send her scurrying back into confinement. Not so her counterpart.

"Uh… leaving. What does it look like? Of course you're welcome to try and stop me, although I warn you this is far from my first Mexican standoff and there's plenty of charge left in this concussion blaster. It won't really hurt you but we both know it's sufficient to knock you loopy long enough for me to get a good head start on you."

Was she completely insane! Even if there was a reasonable chance of her making it past him like that, where would she go? How would she even get off the ship? She heard the quiet sound of her counterpart shifting her weight to shoulder the cumbersome weapon. She knew from limited experience that compensating for the kickback alone was no laughing matter and would give him more than enough time to recover from the blaster's effects.

He laughed then, in a way well beyond mockery and tinged with spiteful intent. "Are you completely insane! You can't seriously be willing to take the chance that I wouldn't be fast enough to stop you before you even get one shot out of that thing…"

"Be that as it may, it only takes a twitch of the finger. I think you know me well enough by now to know how easily my finger tends to twitch."

"You're clearly delusional. Again. You must be suffering memory loss from your transformation. Perhaps I should find a way to _make_ you remember…"

"Oh, I heard what you said earlier." Ranchi marveled at the nerve her counterpart had to interrupt him. Surely she didn't think his patience would last any longer that it already had, but an even more sardonic declaration followed right on the heels of the first. "Really, I'm surprised I had to move my timetable forward. I mean, taking the initiative to use a shortcut through the rift, that's nearly uncharacteristic of you isn't it?" She chuckled under her breath shortly, even as her adversary issued a guttural snarl like an animal warning of imminent attack. "You may yet have potential. And here I was under the impression they had you all domesticated. After Andolonusia and the way you practically ran right back to heel for your master, like a dog with his tail between his legs, I have to say I'm thoroughly supr…"

She never got to finish. An abrupt, wet crack cut her off, a sickening sound Ranchi recognized from her recent observation of the tournament as the crushing of bone and splitting of flesh. The counterpart issued a short grunt. Then, after another pause, she said in a rasping whisper, "You may have Miss Priss wrapped around your little finger, but you will never… Have… Me. If I cross to the next world… you will have relinquished any claim you had.

Then she heard her counterpart inhale sharply, realizing too late to prepare that she was being forced to surface. After that, she only knew pain. Somewhere in the back of her mind she noted a horrible keening sound, but the searing, twisting hurt swallowed her up too thoroughly to recognize her own screams. Agony became everything. She didn't recognize that she was writhing, wildly clutching at her attacker as he squatted over her to survey the damage. All the while the void pulled at her, now almost alluring in the promised conclusiveness of its embrace. A last gasp of coherent thought, that she would have to use the pain to fight the dark emptiness, fleetingly slipped through her mind.

She breathed deeply, her consciousness rising languidly from the warm recesses of sleep. She stretched out, halfheartedly noting that something obstructed her efforts, her arm felt as though entangled in something cool and smooth. She slowly opened her eyes, not really wanting to, preferring to spend a few more minutes lolling in the woozy darkness of sleep, but she reflexively felt the need to see the impediment. She opened her eyes, shocked when she felt them burning, her vision useless. It took a moment to comprehend her submersion in a fluid somewhat more viscous than water. She jerked involuntarily, overtaken by a moment of claustrophobia. A flurry of bubbles rose around her, tickling her exposed skin as she strained at the tubing that snaked around her before she made the connection that it was delivering the air that kept her from drowning. She managed to make out a few blurry shapes, then the liquid suddenly drained. She let herself float limply to the bottom of the tank with it as it rushed out. She regained a sense of awareness when the chamber door opened and cool air teased at her. Ranchi teetered to standing, accepting gratefully the smooth, dainty blue gray hand the technician extended to her. Another small hand passed her a large towel, a swath of textile that felt more like a thick chamois than the terry cloth she was familiar with.

As her vision cleared more, the standard lighting glared, appearing brighter than normal. The worried face of the female medical technician came in to focus in front of her as she hurriedly handed her a dry bodysuit.

"Do you remember what you're supposed to do?" she asked in a harried voice as she followed up the clothing with a set of chest armor and a scouter.

"N…no," Ranchi managed to stammer. "What?..."

The technician sighed. "I was afraid this would happen. Your alter ego never tires of being fickle, does she?" She grabbed something off of the countertop and pressed it into Ranchi's palm, gently pushing her fingers closed around it. "No matter. Everything's already set but there's very little time." As the technician continued to hastily explain, Ranchi looked down and saw that she was holding the capsule from Frieza 75.

"One of the hangar staff managed to play sick so that he could report. The Sub-commander has already set the navigational controls in his pod. You need only launch and specify a landing site once you reach orbit around your world. The pod bay is designated Gamma-4, IVR code 1202. Good luck."

Still somewhat disoriented, Ranchi hesitated before heading for the door. Before she made it to the corridor the technician stopped her again. "Promise me, no matter what, you will make sure Kakarott survives to avenge my people." She spoke gravely, the statement offered up with a sense of finality that struck Ranchi even though she had no idea what the technician was talking about.

"Of course," she replied, trying to sound strong. However, as she stepped out in the corridor, impulse dictated that she simply follow the familiar route to her quarters, not to go in the opposite direction towards the hangar bay. She suffered through a moment of sickening panic, incertitude rooting her to the spot she stood in. She gripped the capsule, her hand white-knuckled. Suddenly she began to run towards the hangars as though her legs had comprehended exactly what all of this meant before her brain decided to. When she arrived there, she wordlessly entered the correct code and then climbed into the pod as if on auto pilot. None of the crew stopped her, most acted as if nothing out of the ordinary were happening. A couple of the crew, that appeared to be of the same race as the medical technician, did pause to meet her eyes in a meaningful gaze that marked them as co-conspirators. She tried to ignore them.

She was already deep into the black nothingness of the rift and on the edge of stasis-sleep when she vaguely made out Raditzu's threats over the scouter. She barely comprehended them over the single thought that consumed her as she nodded off. _I am free._

--

I _am_ free. Ranchi tried to reassure herself as she watched the last bit of sunlight disappearing over the Chikyuu horizon. Why did this place, this world, suddenly feel so alien? She sensed something furry curl around her ankle and she started, nearly falling over onto the sand. A scream briefly lodged itself in her throat.

She looked down to see Dr. Briefs' feline companion. It rubbed up against her feet and purred softly, then went running over to where Dr. Briefs paced erratically to get better reception on a mobile phone as he arranged for transport of the partially intact space pod.

She let out her stifled breath as a nervous giggle, relief washing over her. She looked up, meeting a familiar unyielding gaze touched with the reflected vermillion of the sky. She involuntarily flinched and looked away as he put a reassuring hand on her shoulder.

"Lunch-san. Are you sure you're alright?" he asked, his voice tinged with concern.

Dear Kami! How could she have missed the connection? It should have been plain from the very minute she set eyes on Missionary's Sub-Commander and he demanded to know about his brother. The similarities now appeared so glaringly obvious. The way the full brows furrowed in determination, even the little upturn at the end of the nose.

_Yeah, and that shit-eating grin. Don't forget about that. That's what tipped _me_ off anyway. _

She smiled in an attempt to repeat her performance from the hangar bay on Missionary, despite the added difficulty of pointedly setting her mind to shut out the unwanted commentary. "Of course." She forced another giggle. "It was a very long trip, after all. I'm just a little tired." Something caught her eye as she said it. The little cat had left a solitary hair behind on the breeze. It hovered in the air on a course towards her nose. She tracked it with her eyes and blew a little puff of air at it. It drifted upwards, but by then the breeze had died and it just slowly floated right back down.

"OK." Goku smiled back at her. "I was going to call it a night and head home, but I'll be back tomorrow for sure. It will be good to get into the routine of training again."

The stray hair landed on her nose. It twitched twice before she sneezed, spraying him in a shower of spittle.

"I'm sorry Goku." Kushami made the statement slowly, deliberately, attempting to make eye contact.

"Oh, that's alright," Goku said, laughing as he wiped at his face with both hands, obviously feigning amusement to perhaps prevent her from suddenly drawing a weapon.

Damn it! He didn't have a clue. She needed to look him straight in the eye, needed to make sure that he knew she was dead serious. After what developed into a horribly awkward moment she gave up.

"Get some rest," she grunted shortly and turned to go back inside, sweeping up the bag containing the jade statue on her way. When she got to the door, she looked back over her shoulder. Kinto-un flitted almost expectantly to his side. For a split second, his features sobered as though maybe he had understood that her apology had nothing to do with the fact that she'd sneezed all over him. Then he waved jovially and climbed onto the little cloud before shooting off into the distance.

She'd hardly taken two steps inside when Tenshinhan intercepted her.

"Kushami, we need to talk."

"Yes we do," she replied shortly. "Since you were the one who decided to interrupt what was probably the only chance I had to blow off some steam before the shit starts hitting the fan, you can find an expedient way to get me back to West City." Her stomach flip-flopped as she said it. It probably hadn't been a good idea to throw liquor on top of the sandwiches she'd eaten earlier, the only food she'd had in several days now. But, at the time, anything that she could've done to convince herself that things were going to go back to normal, whatever that was, seemed like a good idea.

"No. Not before you explain what's going on here more thoroughly. Not until you tell me why you would do what you did at that museum." She was trying to head up the stairs to the loft she used to call home to check if she'd left anything of use in the various hiding places she'd utilized there, but he sidestepped her and blocked the stairs. He lowered his voice a little. "I can't imagine that such brutality was necessary for you to acquire whatever it is you're hiding in that bag. And Chao-tzu says…"

"Chao-tzu should learn to mind his own business." She shot Ten's dwarfish companion, whose hovering presence only a few feet away had suddenly become nearly oppressive, a pointed look. _That's right. Why don't you just have a nice cup of shut the fuck up, little man. _He didn't react to the thought but she wondered if he'd possibly heard it after what had happened earlier in the capsule plane. She smirked and pushed past Ten. "Fine. You want to talk, then save it for the ride over. Besides, you should go back with me anyway. I brought you something," she said, flashing an impish grin over her shoulder as she climbed the stairs.

He followed at a deliberate pace and filled the doorway to the loft behind her, watching her search under floorboards and in the futon stored there. Two of his eyes followed her intently, while the third stared ahead unmoving. She sighed heavily when it became apparent that she wasn't going to come up with much. The only traces left behind from her previous occupation consisted of a half empty clip from a 9mm pistol and two sabot slugs intended for use in a 12 gauge. Though relatively certain that they would prove to be of no help, she pocketed them anyhow. She picked the bag back up and walked over to the doorway, stopping right in front of Ten. She glared when he didn't move. She offered him more of a warning than she would have given anyone else before raining a hail of bullets on them. "Outta my way,' she glowered. "Either you're coming with me or not but I'm leaving. Now."

His face remained as impassive as the rest of him. "I will go with you to West City, but you need to stop and rest first." A look of concern briefly crossed his features. "You don't look well at all."

"So what?" She stepped forward and thrust her free hand out as if to push past him again, but he caught her wrist and pulled her close.

"Please," he said softly. "All these years, I worried about you." She looked up into his eyes as they searched hers, momentarily caught off guard by his compassion. She let him draw her into an embrace, one hand brushing from her shoulder down to the hand she gripped the bag with, coaxing her fingers free of it. "After you disappeared, I couldn't discount the possibility that I might have been somewhat to blame."

It was extraordinarily easy for her to let go. She leaned into him, wrapping her arms around his neck and drinking up his familiar scent of mossy forest floors in autumn. It wouldn't hurt to take comfort in this, just for a moment.

No. It was too easy. The simple reality remained that they really didn't have time for this. She considered what they had shared over and done with a long time ago, hadn't she? She didn't need, or want, his pity anyway, and pulled away abruptly.

"Wait," he said, somewhat taken aback by the swiftness and force of the movement. He held out his hand and stepped towards her.

"No," she said hotly, her face suddenly darkened by an angry scowl. Her hand reflexively whipped to the inside of the vest she was wearing, and then back out with a semiautomatic pistol in its grip. She aimed it at him, her arm fully extended and stiff. "Don't touch me!"

He stared at her in near disbelief, holding up both hands in surrender. "You know I mean you no harm," he said steadily. He noticed a very slight tremor in her aim. She was definitely not well. "I only want to help you."

She took a step back, her face flushed with anger, eyes glassy. "Chao-tzu!" she ordered, "get in here."

It didn't take long before the little man appeared behind Ten, floating high enough off the floor to stare over his friend's shoulder at her in alarm.

"You've been poking around my head," she barked.

"I… I haven't meant to. It just happened…" He looked at her pleadingly.

"You seemed to be in a hurry to talk about it. Fine. Show him," she demanded, filling her mind with a vivid and gruesome memory.

--

She looked at the orders scrolling on the scouter's green eyepiece and then back at Commander Nestar. Her third purging and finally something described as complicated came up in the briefing. She tried to sound out the name of the planet, but couldn't wrap her tongue around the dialect and abandoned the attempt, reasoning the name of the place didn't really matter. Information on several power plants employing some complicated method of elemental fission flashed briefly. Frieza wanted the world with these left intact.

Nestar assigned her to a strike force intended to intercept resistance and then clear out some of the outlying settlements. The mission started out like her previous two experiences. The drop ships deposited their forces on the planet's surface in numbers vast enough to overrun the armies the inhabitants deployed. As with the previous missions, the denizens sent the armies to intercept them in less populated locations, possibly reasoning that they could keep civilian casualties low.

As a rule, Freiza ordered them to leave major metropolitan cities as undamaged as possible for the next occupants, but didn't make too much of a fuss over it if accidents should happen. However, any incidental damage to the power plants guaranteed harsh penalties. The orders specified delivery of the planet into the Planet Trade's grip with all facilities operational.

After landing, the strike force spread out over the hardpack tundra that covered most of the landmasses. Encounters with the locals consisted of short-lived scuffles with small patrol regiments armed with low powered blasters and conventional explosives. She cut through group after group of them with her standard issue pistol, even took a few down with a hastily produced Uzi just for kicks, but boredom set in quickly. Aside from avoiding mines, she felt like an automaton on a slash and burn job. At least the military types fought back. Civvies went down like lambs to slaughter. She'd left bodies in her wake before, but nothing near what a purge entailed. Nevertheless, desensitization to the absolute decimation of whole populations developed quickly.

She shrugged and thought to herself "a job is a job" as she rounded a scarp and came upon a group of homesteaders. She made short work of them with the blaster, no sense in drawing out the inevitable, and it gave her more time to roll the bodies. An illegal activity by Trade rules, but one that some of the bolder personnel in her squad indulged in often enough, given the opportunity. The indentured on large ships like Missionary proved willing enough to trade certain consumable items for chits, sometimes even credits.

Unfortunately, she didn't find anything of real value, and new orders came in over the scouter indicating a rendezvous point and change in the primary objective to extraction. The briefing described a sabotage attempt going on at one of the largest power plants. Nestar wasted no time in calling his squad to respond. His direct orders for the strike teams to disband and regroup with the rest of the squad at the drop ship followed immediately after the general directive.

Squad 57 arrived ahead of most of the others and jumped right in to searching the place.

The power plant complex covered several square miles. Kushami began her search at the far southeast entrance. Her first sweep of the general area revealed none of the estimated thousand saboteurs, but navigation of the gigantic labyrinth like structure demanded a methodical and careful process a general sweep couldn't provide. She decided to keep moving in a northerly direction, checking each pipe, catwalk or conveyor twice before moving on.

She entered a dark stretch of hallway, attracted by the sudden sound of footfalls. They echoed off the concave walls in rapid succession, followed by a stream of childish laughter, nearly haunting in its innocence. She answered by clicking her blaster into "hot" mode, letting the distinctive whine of the fuel cell charging fill the corridor. After a moment she reengaged the safety and listened. A rustling sounded ahead of her. She came to a junction where light streamed down through a ventilation shaft and saw the flicker of a shadow pass along the floor. Moving quickly and silently to the edge of the shaft's opening she peered up inside, noting movement. She quickly thrust her free hand into the shaft and grasped the occupant, jerking downward with all her strength. She twisted around to train her weapon on the creature as it hit the floor, disengaging the safety again.

She expected technicians or scientists, possibly even some kind of covert operatives, not children. She looked down at her wriggling quarry in surprise, ignoring the sudden wails and tears. Something about the circumstances gave her such a strange feeling, an anticipatory bid for approval from some unidentifiable source, but she pushed it aside as she dragged the little thing back the way she came, depositing it outside with the rest of the apprehended saboteurs, all of them barely more than toddlers.

She paused only briefly to remind herself that she shouldn't let personal issues interfere with work, then went back inside to do her part in finishing the mission. Finding all the gremlins, as Commander Nestar began calling them, took the better part of the day. It turned out to be the better part of two standard days because the planet had an unusually far flung orbit in relation to the single blue sun of the system. The vast structure contained a few relatively open areas, but many spaces in between, tiny and cramped with no lack of hazardous mechanical obstacles and precarious ledges over chasm like recesses. On more than one occasion the job reminded her of the old cartoons with the wandering babies that would traipse through factories and construction sites unscathed while their pursuers bore the brunt of the dangers. She pulled nearly a dozen small children out of the complex. Most of them obviously perceived the whole thing as a game of tag or hide and seek. One giggled and conspiratorially held out a pair of pliers to her as she wrested it from a nest of electrical cables. The entire situation gave her an eerie sense of familiarity that she couldn't put her finger on, like remembering a dream long after waking.

At one point she found herself crawling through a network of conduit barely wide enough for her to fit in. She must have sneezed in the process because the next thing she knew she huddled in a ventilation shaft. A sleeping child snuggled in her arms. She looked down at the kid, she couldn't tell if it was male, female or both with this particular species, and cursed. There was no telling how much time she had lost, for all she knew the entire battalion already left the surface. When they exited the plant into the light of day, the child began to stir from sleep. It stared up at her in confusion. She looked from it to the open yard at the plant's entrance and what was happening there.

A portion of the troops present held a large group of the adult denizens at gunpoint, forced to watch the atrocities heaped upon their ill-fated children. The child in her arms began to turn its head to follow her gaze. She quickly wrapped her forearm around its head and jerked in the opposite direction, satisfied she provided a quick kill by the quiet crack and then immediate stillness of the thing. She cast her eye over those assembled, searching for Nestar's particular expanse of blue gray head tentacles. She found him quickly enough, thankfully in the group guarding the adult prisoners, and dragged the little corpse over to him, dumping it at his feet.

"So that's the last of them, then?" He prodded at it with his boot rolling it over. "Your orders were to bring these out alive. Care to explain what happened here?"

"Sir. It fell down a shaft. Sir." She answered with military precision.

"Ah, well, I suppose one casualty in this instance won't make too much of a difference. What Lord Freiza doesn't know won't hurt him, anyway." He gave her a look that suggested discretion, than went back to surveying the horrors going on in the yard, saying "Our master has decided to raise these in slavery as punishment for their actions, I suppose it's better they're broken in sooner than later."

"Sir. Were our orders not also to work with extreme efficiency? This will hardly expedite our mission…"

"Like I said, what Freiza does not know…" he sighed. "Some of these yahoos need the occasional outlet, otherwise I'd loose any control I have over them, and then we'd all be headed on a one way trip to the next world for sure."

She looked at him askance. This was bullshit. Their orders consisted of extraction and execution, not rape and torture. Some of those in the group molesting the children were soldiers she knew, turned into animals no better than the ones they claimed to hate. It started to rain then, a viscous, greasy trickle that was more than a drizzle but not a full blown shower. The grounds quickly became a muddy quagmire that matched her mood. She felt a knot of disgust and shame rise in her throat along with the strange disjointed feeling that plagued her since entering the plant.

She stood and watched for a little while, then raised her weapon to the fore and discharged it into the yard, cutting down children and soldiers alike, the report of blaster fire lasting several minutes. She then immediately turned and repeated the process on the group of adults, those of the guards that knew what was good for them scurried out of the line of fire as their captives fell, in a bloody heap, to the dust.

Commander Nestar looked at her with wide orange eyes, jaw gaping.

She turned to him and grinned. "I believe your potential problem with 'out of control yahoos' has been solved. Sir."

But… but Freiza-sama…"

"What he doesn't know won't hurt him. Your report could go somethin' like," she looked quizzically at her muddied boots and considered. "An unfortunate uprising occurred at the last minute. It turns out the children were all armed with explosives and intended to self destruct. It was necessary to dispatch everyone. To save the plant."

After that, the word 'genocide' flitted about uncomfortably about in her mind a little more readily on subsequent missions.

--

Chao-tzu remained impassive, any emotion shrouded in concentration. She didn't understand at all the way Chao-tzu's psychic powers worked; didn't know the possibility of transmission of thoughts or memories, but the look on Ten's face suggested that at least part of it had gotten through.

She trained the gun on Ten, instinctively knowing that three successive pulls on the trigger would deliver lead to the kneecap, torso, then the head as it arced with the kickback, that is, if he weren't such a skilled martial artist. She had no doubt that he was faster than that, but it didn't deter her.

"When we last spoke," she said in a voice meant to be even but far from it, "you told me I'd never amount to more than petty thievery. Looks like I've been promoted."

His features hardened form near slack-jawed shock to a look of resolute compassion as he took a step towards her. "You were clearly under duress. Although responsibility does lie with you, the guilt is not completely yours for crimes you committed while under another's control." He held out one hand as though he wanted her to hand the pistol over. She didn't move.

Anger and a vindictive urge prompted her to throw his consideration back in his face. "Is that what you've been telling yourself all this time since you bailed on the Crane Master?" A pained look crossed his features for a moment, and she felt sorry she'd said it, but she didn't take it back, either. "It really wasn't that far of a stretch for me, you know." She felt her grip on the pistol loosen somewhat as she fought off a wave of sudden vertigo. "Besides, no one controls me but me." She gripped the gun tighter again, but by that time he'd come close enough to put his hand on hers, the barrel of the weapon point blank to his chest.

"Yet," he said, "I still don't believe that you are going to kill me as I stand, here and now."

Her hold on the pistol faltered again and he took it from her. "Damn you!" she swore. "Fine. I'm not going to kill you." Her head was positively swimming at that point and she felt as if all of her insides were churning. She'd be damned if she was going to fall over and feint in his arms like some kind of damsel in distress. He'd gotten enough of such satisfaction out of her years ago. "And you're right," she added grudgingly, "I could use a little rest." She pulled free of him and sank down on the futon, thinking that it was entirely possible that her stint in the regen tank had been truncated and that's what was causing her to feel so awful. "But only because I'll need you to execute my plans," she said through a yawn as she stretched out on the futon. It felt really good to lie down and she found she could barely keep her eyes open. She decided to just rest them for a moment.

When she next opened her eyes, the room had darkened completely, save for a sliver of moonlight coming in through the one small window. As her sight adjusted to the darkness she made out his silhouette, a black shape pierced at the crown by reflected light off of the third eye. He sat cross legged on the floor, or possibly an inch above it, across the room in meditation, the eye watching over her like a steadfast guard.

Her immediate inclination was to get up and get back to West City via whatever means possible. Her plans involved considerable risk and she could barely stand to lay idle. However, she still felt weak and tired. As much as she wanted to get up, she just couldn't seem to get her body to agree with her. As she lay there staring into the darkness, the one point of light in his shadowy figure disappeared, replaced by two. She couldn't see the pupils, but she knew his eyes had met hers. She felt the nearly electric charge that she always got when she met those eyes, even now. They both stared for a heartbeat, then two, neither of them speaking or moving. Both of them closed their eyes after that, she to feign sleep and he to return to meditating, but it was as though an unspoken truce had been agreed upon in that brief moment.


	12. Endless Summer

Ransom Due – Chapter 12 - Endless Summer ---

Raditzu carried the large ceramic water jugs down the steep trail to the spring, one on each shoulder. He could have used buku-jutsu and had the task done quicker, but today he felt like taking the scenic route. The menial task hadn't really bothered him before. He viewed it as uncomplicated tradition, a form of veneration to the owner of the house any warrior in training had permission to live in. The cistern had to be kept full anyway, but then it had served his own needs. Now that his father had returned, necessitating a houseful of warriors at any given time, the chore took on all the undignified overtones likely intended. The minor debasement served as a reminder to those serving required intersession between their infant mission and their first outing as adults that they had a place distinctly far below the standing of a warrior seasoned enough to have acquired his own living quarters. He normally got the job done as quickly as possible and early as possible, but he could see the subtle saffron glow of the second sun already breaking the horizon, marking the hour as much later than usual.

The heat of the first sun already beat down persistently, twice as unbearable because of his heavy armor. Insects, a virtual plague of them, incessantly buzzed past his ears, some taking the opportunity to alight on his bare arms and legs to bite at him. At his arrival on Vegetasei he'd been greeted by the taunting of several experienced warriors on their way off world. "Intersession during high summer in the capitol," one of them chortled. "The boy craves a challenge!" It hadn't taken him long to figure out what they found so amusing. Intersession training had a reputation for being brutal, and summer on Vegetasei made it doubly so. Rumor had it that many, after having seen the information stored in the pods about their homeworld, intentionally waited to return from their infant missions so as to arrive on world during the cooler seasons. Of course, nobody would have admitted to doing so, but it was common knowledge that the winter sessions always had somewhat larger turnouts. He never had the chance of returning to the prospect of anything but a summer session. His father eliminated the possibility of that by simply keeping a seasonal residence.

Any one of these things normally would have put him in a terrible mood, but on this occasion he didn't even feel mildly annoyed. He took his time, wandering over the uneven ground almost aimlessly, stopping momentarily in the few places the scrubby undergrowth offered shade.

One more rise in the little track snaking through the pumice laden outskirts of the city and he arrived at the little spring. As he knelt to dip the jugs into the small trench carved by the trickling stream of water, he heard something moving in the brush behind him. He turned, hands arcing to collect ki in the off chance he'd startled one of the rare browsing game animals that showed up from time to time to get water from the spring.

A low powered blast of energy glanced off his upraised hands, stinging slightly and negating the power he had collected.

"'Afternoon, waterboy."

"Celipa." Her name rolled off his tongue in a feral hiss as he struggled to retain some semblance of composure. "Shouldn't you be back at my father's house gloating over your new job?"

The thin line of her mouth spread into a teasing smile. "I would, but that wouldn't be any fun. Awfully late with chores today, aren't we?" She plucked a sprig off the brush she'd emerged from and deposited it soundly between her lips.

He grunted and returned to the task at hand. Perhaps, if he ignored her, she would go away.

He would have, should have, attained a position on his father's squad if she hadn't cheated at the trials to fill the vacancy. Both his strength and fighting technique rivaled hers even though she had several years' experience on him. She'd only won the contest because she'd distracted him with the use of totally unnecessary flourish in her attacks, designed specifically to draw attention to her femininity. A dishonorable and underhanded tactic that most females wouldn't use simply out of pride, especially in a public forum. He'd prevailed until nearly the very end, but it only took one slip up to loose everything.

"Hmmm. Can't say I envy you for coming out the looser. And now putting so much energy into burying your outrage." He heard the porous gravel crunch beneath her boots as she took a measured step closer behind him. "Keep focusing on your anger alone and you'll not advance. Not quickly, anyhow."

"Won't I?" Stupid! She'd hardly said a few words and already he'd fallen into the trap of responding to her taunts. He attempted to strengthen his resolve by galvanizing his attention to carefully forcing the mouth of the first jug into the trench so that the water might flow into it easily, focusing on his own hands... His hands! It became evident as he looked at them that he could encircle the neck of the container with only one hand, when it should have taken two. The hands he looked at were those of his adult years, not the scrawny appendages of an adolescent at all. He only began to grasp the odd juxtaposition of being in this place as an adult when she spoke again, causing the thought to dissipate as mist on the wind.

"You won't. I know this from experience." She said this in a clipped, smug tone, laced with the confidence of already having bested him once before.

He felt something brush lightly at his elbow and reflexively clutched at it, whirling to face her as he did. He grasped only empty air as she whisked the stem she'd picked earlier out of his reach. A snarl of sorts rumbled from his throat in his frustration and he lunged, intending to snatch it from her hand. Again she moved just fast enough to render his effort useless, sliding the end of the twig back to its seat at the corner of her mouth in a swift and elegant motion. She didn't laugh or say anything for a moment, but her tail swayed arrogantly behind her as she fixed him with a steady gaze.

He again set his mind to quell the rising fury and desire, even as he felt his throat constrict and chest tighten with the surge of it. "What is it that you want?" He matched her stare, noticing now that her hair hung just slightly past her shoulders. He thought that surely she would have cut it by this time, that she _did_ cut it immediately after she'd been officially employed, but the thought slipped through his mind, barely registering. She'd surreptitiously closed the remaining distance between them. She stood close enough for him to feel her body radiating heat, and looked up at him, eyes narrowed and predatory. He felt a sheen of sweat bloom on his exposed skin.

She removed the twig from her mouth and tossed it aside. Her tongue flicked over her lips. ."I want you to show me how angry you are."

Her utterance of this invitation swept all pretenses of rationality from his mind. He flew at her again, this time with more force and speed. Again her petite frame moved just out of his reach, only a fraction of a second faster than his advance. She laughed now, a soft, pleasant sound that belied her violent nature. "Oh, ho! You'll have to catch me first. You'll need to know how."

With that, she loosed the force of her ki, displaying her aura in a flash of muted white light before shooting upward into the hazy air. And so began a frenzied chase, first in the sky, the capitol city and its outlying districts spread beneath them in a disorganized conglomeration like so many hastily discarded trinkets. Later they sped through the city itself, carelessly buffeting people in the teeming streets, rocketing pell-mell through alleyways and promenades alike.

Always she stayed just a hair's breadth ahead of him. Periodically she looked back over her shoulder and laughed, or flung mild insults to egg him on. He returned her criticism in kind, his frustration gradually turning to tense brevity.

He finally pushed himself over what he thought was his limit, only to realize that of course his strength had grown as had the rest of him. He had more than enough power to overtake her at any time. He collided with her and the two dropped out of the air, forward momentum sending them tumbling over a modest expanse of bare earth. They finally came to a stop against a crumbling wall.

The chase had ended in the bowl of an ancient amphitheatre, a decrepit edifice left behind by some long forgotten civilization. He halfheartedly noted the irony of the location, the very site where she had previously achieved her ill-gotten victory over him. It didn't matter. They tugged at each other's armor, somehow removing it despite the tangle of limbs and wild attempts to gain purchase by any means necessary.

Eventually she jockeyed herself to a position behind him, painfully wrenching his arm backward while winding a good portion of his hair around her forearm and pulling roughly to fully expose his neck. She ran her tongue from the ridge of his collarbone up to his ear, stopping to nip at it and laugh again, this time low and gruff, abandoning all pretense of humor.

"Yield!" She whispered the demand, making it all the more compelling.

"No." Never. Not willingly.

He only needed to snap his head to the side, dislodging her grip on his arm and sending her flying up with the momentum over his shoulder to land gracelessly in front of him.

Her eyes widened in disbelief at his newfound power as he advanced on her, taking his turn at mockery and savoring every minute of it. She twisted to avoid him and simultaneously get to her feet, but he intercepted her before she could right herself. He planted his foot squarely in her gut, upsetting her center of gravity and driving her to the ground. His laughter rose to a nearly insane pitch as he observed fear clouding her features, if only for an instant.

"Submission suits you," he said as he pinned her shoulders to the ground, gripping forcefully with hands that nearly engulfed her in their breadth.

"Not as well as it does you," she spat back as she attempted to dislodge him with some well placed kicks. He efficiently circumvented her efforts, eliciting a strangled howl from her, followed by a stream of curses that he cut short by covering her mouth with his own. As his lips closed on hers he could taste the spicy-sour sap of the branch she'd held there earlier.

She responded all too positively, darting her tongue to meet his, despite her continuing attempts to cause him bodily harm with her legs.

He managed to hold one of the delinquent extremities at bay, grinding into her thigh with his knee, but the unexpected griping of her tail on _his_ thigh distracted him from confining the other.

Still they devoured each other, not even pausing for breath when she finally gained leverage and rolled, suddenly pressing him beneath her. She neatly clutched his waist into a vise grip with her legs, crimping his tail, which had remained protectively wrapped there. He gasped with the sudden pain, breaking their heated kiss abruptly.

"You are so easily suckered," she sneered reproachfully, punctuating the statement by increasing the pressure on his tail.

Pain coursed through him as he stared without focus at the sky spread over her shoulders, the riotous crimson light of the suns burning in defiance to his agony. It was a wonder he noticed something terribly amiss about the sky through the throbbing in both his tail and now achingly restless groin.

"Gah! Going to die…" he choked.

"Awww. It couldn't be as bad as all that," she crooned.

"No! All… going. To. Die!" His arm shot out and he clamped his hand on her wrist in an impulsive panic. "We have to… get off … planet… before it blows."

She jerked her arm, inexplicably unable to wrest it from his hold although the majority of his strength was leached away by the havoc she wreaked on his tail. "What are you talking about?" He watched the anomalous body looming ever larger in the sky as she looked down at him scornfully, oblivious to certain doom. As he observed, it became readily apparent that the approaching object was no asteroid, comet or other celestial phenomenon. He knew this thing from somewhere, recognized the increasing harsh light flooding the sky, but could not immediately place it. Two words slid to the front of his consciousness unbidden: Death Ball.

"Furiza…" The name dropped carelessly from his lips as the gradual revelation dawned. "He'll… destroy us all…"

"Baw-ha-haw!" She unclenched her thighs, releasing him from both the pain and his entrapment. "Fine. If you're willing to come up with such ridiculous lies to get me to feel sorry for you, you're hardly worth it." He squinted his eyes against the nearly blinding light. She had become a shadowed outline against its glare, but he could still see her facetious smirk. How could she ignore…? They had to get away from here!

His mind wanted to deny the event. Still, he defiantly got to his feet and dragged the protesting Celipa in the direction of civilization and means of departing Vegetasei's condemned surface. He knew the impossibility of escape, but he flew anyway, fueled by adrenaline and the conviction of knowledge. He refused to die in such a dishonorable fashion, and refused to let her, a Saiya-jin warrior, reach the next world like that either. He railed against inevitability even as the first shock wave swept through them, as everything crumbled to searing dust with its furious punch.

She held fast, returning his grip against the all too real horror engulfing them on every side, her nails digging bloody furrows on the inside of his wrist as her body whipped up like a rag doll in the hot wind of the explosion's back draft. Her face had become a mask of terror. "Don't let go… don't let go… don't let go… don't…"

Powerless, he watched her disintegrate along with the world in a rain of super heated ash and rock. The process commenced at an excruciatingly slow pace, nearly unreal in its clarity. He uselessly voiced his anguish in an uncontrolled wail that the onslaught of rushing heat snatched away in its rising tide.

With time, the firestorm dimmed, allowing darkness and silence to descend. Yet he remained, alone and tiny against the vast backdrop of an endless void. Nothingness and freezing cold penetrated his senses, leaving only an empty numbness.

Raditzu startled awake, gasping, swallowing icy air. The cold interior of the pod seemed to press down on him. Blackness flooded the tiny craft save for the dim glow of a solitary indicator light. He vaguely made out the outline of his frozen breath as he struggled to get his bearings. It took a moment to take in the complete absence of starlight through the small porthole, to make the connection that the indicator light demanded his attention.

After a brief survey of the control panel, he surmised the stasis field and had failed. He hadn't the means of repairing such a malfunction. Luckily, everything else appeared to be working properly. The technical readout, visible through his scouter, said the pod was still rocketing through space, but the rift had enveloped it in an overpowering pall. There was no way of knowing if the gauge was accurate just by looking out the porthole. For all he knew he was stalled. Remembered tales of people loosing their minds in the void of a rift taunted him, his psyche still tinged with the remnants of his dream.

He sat stunned in the blankness, trying to shake off the lingering uneasiness. The dark pressed on, unending. _Don't let go… don't let go… don't let go…_ The whispered litany thrummed in his mind.

He recognized it. The slave had repeated the words ceaselessly as she lay dying, staring through him with unfocused, glazed eyes. Shock, the medtech said.

How strange that it would blend in his stasis dreams, which tended toward lucidity, not the muddled, nightmarish fugue he'd just experienced. The scenario, as it began, had been an oft revisited pleasure, during his hours both conscious and unconscious. Born of adolescent longing, he'd invented the majority of it.

Celipa had taken his spot on the squad, had become a fixture at the house over that distant summer. And, yes, he'd become somewhat obsessed with her. The attraction had only increased with his resentment over the situation. It was obvious and she did tease him occasionally, but mostly she'd ignored him. Work held the majority of her attention, and she'd treated him as beneath her notice. The squad had gone back out on mission before the season had ended. Shortly thereafter, he'd relocated to the opposite hemisphere, finished training, and moved on to his first official mission. He'd never seen Celipa or his father again after that first summer on Vegetasei, and he never set foot on the planet again once he'd left it.

There were many trysts with various parties before he left. Many more afterwards, once he gained rank in the Planet Trade. But, that first fascination, forever unfulfilled, was the one that he returned to, over and over. And he did wonder once or twice if she had died without honor like that. She must have. He'd checked the roster. All contracted squads were on world for a general census at the time of the disaster. He didn't dwell on it. Warriors did not wax poetic over the dead. Occupational hazards abounded making death incidental, including the shamefully wasteful variety.

Rumors circulated concerning Freiza's involvement with the accident, but the official reports all pointed to a celestial event. He had his suspicions, but he'd be a fool to voice any of them.

The searing blaze of the Death Ball rose up in his mind's eye, only to be replaced suddenly by a real memory wherein he lay freezing and paralyzed in the oppressive dark of a cavern, near death. The brief glow of a cigarette's ember flared, lighting the slave's face for an instant as she drew on it. The light sparked over green eyes and died as she inhaled sharply before flicking the butt of the over the side of a chasm, followed immediately by the body of one of the low level soldiers she worked with. She brandished a blast weapon and dared the rest of her squad to defy her.

He never had reason to look twice at low levels. He viewed them as fodder, little more than animals. But this one belonged to him, the only thing he'd ever owned legally and completely. It became a personal curiosity at the very least. He let the duality of the transformations intrigue him, took pleasure in playing psychological games facilitated by the associated memory loss. Tested her at every opportunity that presented itself to spark self loathing and self doubt. He even began to enjoy her outbursts, secure in the knowledge that she would be simpering for his approval in due time; knowledge he possessed that she didn't.

He remembered how he saw her in that instant, beautiful and untamed, his fever addled mind cleaving in awe to the play of the light on her disturbingly fair hair.

Thus began another obsession, a deceptive compulsion that he failed to see for its true nature until he'd found himself mired in its ill fated results.

He had every reason to think that Kakarott intended sabotage. Perhaps his brother believed that he could somehow circumvent the inevitable, that he could continue to rule in whatever little fiefdom he'd established. He would see the error in that line of thinking soon enough.

He nudged the environmental controls, trying to get the climate buffer to reboot. No sense spending the rest of the trip freezing if he had to spend it awake. Before he was able to make much progress, the indicator light on the stasis system blinked off and the cycle reengaged, plunging him back into unconsciousness.

He found himself stalking the forests of his childhood, formal training, of any kind, far in the future and inconsequential. He reveled in minor acts of destruction, reigning as sometime infant king of his personal stomping grounds.

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AN: Many, many thanks again to my readers and reviewers… especially for your patience.

I know this chapter is an interlude that does not do much in the way of plot progression, but it will make sense later on in the story if all goes as planned.

The next chapter is already half finished, but unfortunately as much as I want to expedite posting it, I do have a billion things that also need to be wrapped up in the next few weeks so I can't promise anything except that eventually it'll get done.


	13. Mr Satan Come Out and Plaaaaay!

AN: Many thanks to my beta EleneK for finding commas and discrepancies for me to fix.

This chapter touches on the Mafu-ba technique, which is what Roshi's master Mutaito used to imprison Piccolo Daimao into a rice cooker. In Dragon Ball, Roshi dies attempting to imprison Piccolo Daimao again with the technique. At the 23rd Boudaki, Kami attempts to defeat Piccolo Jr. with the same technique, but Piccolo reflects themove back at him, landing Kami in the small bottle intended as a prison for Piccolo. Piccolo then swallows the bottle…. And if you haven't you should read the rest in the manga as it's Goku and Piccolo's first fight.

An omamori is a Japanese good luck charm.

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**Ransom Due – Chapter 13 – Mr. Satan Come out and Plaaaaaay!… Or not.**

Kushami took her time in waking. She rolled under the covers for several minutes before throwing them off and heading for the bathroom. The thought crossed her mind that the simple futon was the most comfortable surface she'd slept on in well over three years running, but the observation felt inconsequential. After a good night of dreamless sleep the surreal restlessness that plagued her the day before appeared to have dissipated almost completely. She sauntered down to the first floor. Sunlight streamed in through every window in Kame House, confirming her confidence.

She studied her reflection in the tiny mirror over the bathroom sink. She certainly looked completely refreshed; back to her old self for sure, despite a horrible case of bed head. She went about her usual morning routine, each step a minuscule victory over the harrowing incidents she'd witnessed in the public washroom of Misionary's barracks.

_But you never really had to worry about that, did you? They knew better than to mess with Master._

_No. They knew better than to mess with ME._

She caught herself acknowledging the voice and took a deep breath, determined to start again. If she played her cards right, before she got to the kitchen she'd be near believing the argument she and Ten had gotten into three plus years ago had never happened. It would almost be like she'd never even left.

As she exited the bathroom she avoided looking at the mirror again, stiffly telling herself it was because she didn't have a comb to fix the virtual rat's nest that her hair had turned into overnight. It had nothing whatsoever to do with the possibility of seeing the disgustingly adorable face the voice belonged to in the reflection.

Ten waited for her in the kitchen. He sat at the small table there, stoically sipping at a cup of tea. The warm light bathed him, accentuating the rippling muscles of his arms freely exposed by the sleeveless t-shirt he wore. He didn't notice her immediately, at least he didn't show it if he did, which was fine with her because it gave her an extra moment to look him over a second and third time. He took another deliberate sip of tea before drawing his attention away from the simple cup.

"Are you well?" he asked matter-of-factly.

"Yeah. As good as I'll ever be, I guess." She subconsciously reached back in an attempt to smooth out the tangled hair. Something struck her as out of place, but she wasn't sure exactly what. Oh, well. She let her eyes wander over him again before turning to search the cupboards for something quick she could call breakfast.

"That is good to hear. We were beginning to worry."

"Heh. No need for worry." She rummaged to the back of a small corner cupboard where she knew Roshi sometimes hid cookies from the rest of his "guests." Jackpot. Macaroons. She set to devouring the Turtle Master's meager stash with one hand as she poured herself a cup of tea with the other. The thing that didn't seem right suddenly came to her attention. "Where's Chaozu?"

"He went back to our capsule house yesterday to get it ready for transport…"

"Huh? Yesterday?" She nearly let the teacup she was filling overflow.

"Yes. He said he was sure you weren't ill and that we should just let you rest. However, I would have attempted to wake you if you had not risen by this afternoon. I couldn't imagine that you would need a full three days rest if there was not something wrong."

"Three?... Three days?" The reality of the past three years threatened to come crashing back into the forefront of her consciousness all at once. She kept it at bay by quickly running a series of possible timelines through her mind. When she'd arrived she'd taken a stab at three months lag just taking into consideration the older pods were supposed to be somewhat slower than the newer models. Kakarott's… Goku's (cripes, she couldn't believe she had to correct herself on that account!) pod was definitely a jalopy in terms of its state of repair. If they were lucky, the damn thing would break down in transit and Raditzu would never reach Chikyuu. Her lips curled into a malicious grin as she imagined her sometime "master" uncomfortably cramped in the vehicle, gasping for nonexistent air.

But, damn it all, if luck had anything to do with it, the bastard would have died as planned in the explosions that ripped Missionary apart.

As Ten watched the blonde woman shove cookies into her mouth, one after the other, he wondered if he should even consider, much less attempt Chaozu's plan for helping her. Split form required not only the physical stamina of a trained martial artist, but an extremely focused mind. Lunch, in his estimation, possessed neither. Well, maybe the part of her that had identified herself as Kushami had something akin to mental focus. She'd certainly put nothing short of a singular effort into her attempts to win his affections. It had not appeared more than a childish crush at the outset, but over time it became more like what a wild animal would do having caught the scent of fresh blood or, he winced inwardly at the thought, pheromone musk.

He wondered yet again at the proposal of teaching her such a feat when he told her the duration she'd slept. Her features changed rapidly from disconsolate confusion to something he wasn't sure he could accurately describe if he wanted to. He only knew that although she'd never given him that particular look, it was still disturbingly familiar. Clearly, she sensed prey.

She downed the cup of tea she'd poured herself, features again changing, suddenly all business.

"Well, I'll just grab my bag and we can get going." She swept past him, close enough to lightly brush his shoulder, before he could ask any questions. It appeared she had either forgotten or chosen not to acknowledge the discord that had risen between them in the time before her disappearance.

He really did feel somewhat responsible for what had happened, if only because of his own weakness. They'd have had nothing to argue about if he hadn't finally given in to her advances. At first, he'd balked at her brash forwardness, though not because he didn't have reciprocal feelings for her. Certainly he considered her a beautiful woman, and he saw qualities in both personalities which attracted him, Kushami's unwavering commitment not the least of them. He'd just always known that his training had to come first, only singular dedication would allow him to command and retain the kind of strength and skill necessary to defend against the ever present danger of Piccolo Jr., never mind that he wasn't a man without pride. He fully intended to reclaim his title as Strongest under the Heavens. To do that, he'd have to beat Son Goku, which had been nearly a monumental task before the boy had not only trained with Kami himself, but nearly crushed Piccolo, the god's equivalent if not better in strength.

Kushami's sporadic appearances at he and Chaozu's training grounds became a distraction he knew he'd rather do without. Eventually he took into consideration that perhaps fate had decided to plague him with what undoubtedly was an unavoidable temptation of the flesh as some kind of test. It only gave him resolve to train harder, deny himself pleasure of any kind. His day to day life gradually became more and more ascetic.

Eventually, even Chaozu began to lament the austere conditions that pervaded every facet of their lives. In the end, the invitation extended to Lunch to stay had come from Chaozu, and she (the blonde personality, anyway, though he believed he'd read similar signals from the other as well) made no attempt to hide a certain amount of amusement at the fact that even his "midget sidekick" could see the obvious whereas he could not. He woke one morning to find Ranchi in his kitchen, preparing what he could only think of as a gluttonous feast. Being informed that Chouzu had suggested the routine be permanent, he'd immediately confronted his friend in a frenzied state, only to be rebuffed by an attitude of complete indifference that permeated even the mental rapport they shared. The feelings of confusion and anger that resulted were only compounded by the ongoing game of cat-and-mouse seemingly forced on him by the presence of Lunch, who'd taken on the blonde personality more often than not.

In this manner, tensions continued to rise for several days, with training sessions becoming a battle of wills wherein he began to devise ways of perhaps beating an explanation out of his cohort. His feelings of frustration and resentment quickly made any semblance of concentration, and training itself an exercise in futility.

Finally, one night Kushami cornered him outside his bedroom door, insistent on discussing his reasons for what she saw as his blatant rejection of her. She accused him of finding her completely unappealing, which was of course exactly the opposite of how he felt, and demanded to know why. Her insistence struck him as perhaps all the more sincere due to the fact the she'd broached the subject without the use of any sort of firearm. After stumbling over several attempts to verbalize his feelings, he simply gave up and let her back him into the privacy of his bedroom, at which point all the strain of the past few months came to a head. Literally.

That night he'd let go of any sense of restraint he'd ever had and, from what he could tell, she did also, if in fact she'd ever had any. Their night long tryst spiraled from the reckless abandon of crazed beasts at the beginning to the easy, sensual pace of familiar lovers by the time exhaustion threatened to overtake the both of them. By the end of it all he was certain he'd cut loose every inhibition he'd had since giving up his aspirations of becoming an assassin and perhaps then some. As daylight began seeping through the windows, he drifted on the edge of unconsciousness thinking that in the space of several hours he'd gone back to being a bad, bad man. He assessed, by the slight smile still pasted on his sleeping paramour's face, that she was not displeased with the transformation.

From that point forward, Chaozu returned to his amicable self, the only mention of the friction of the previous weeks being a short mental commentary on dialectic balance, which made perfect sense to Ten. He felt more like himself after acquiescing to his obvious carnal needs by night, and his ability to focus by day on every noble intention he sought to fulfill through mastery of the martial arts resulted in an improved progress in training he would not have thought possible before.

As his progress with training accelerated, so did activities in the bedroom. To his surprise, several of the nightly sessions occurred in the company of Lunch's dark-haired personality, who made no dissent to what had become his routine advances, and in fact, participated in their couplings with apparent gusto. At one point he ventured to ask her about this as he had assumed that the blonde personality had more interest in him, in that respect anyway. She had only replied that she enjoyed sex as much as the next person, and that she certainly liked him well enough, adding, albeit indirectly, that she could easily take the role of protesting victim if he so desired. The truly bizarre nature of his relationship with Lunch became obvious once that particular response sank in. He realized the thought of forcing an unwilling lover to do his bidding was disturbingly attractive to him, and he did not wish to venture into such territory. As it was, a willing mate made for enough of a distraction. He should have trusted his better judgment and put a halt to the whole affair right then, but he'd slogged in too deep to do any such thing. He didn't spend the night with the Ranchi personality again, however. She voiced no complaint to this change in the routine, so he decided he'd made the right choice.

After that, things took another turn for the strange. He spent less time with the Ranchi personality at night, and the overall time he spent with either diminished as he used every available daylight hour for training. His nighttime meetings with Kushami changed somewhat in that they spent more time just talking with one another than on physical gratification. She began asking him questions pertaining to hypothetical situations which began to remind him more and more of his prior mental training sessions with the Crane Master's brother. He found himself giving answers and deliberating over things he'd previously pledged not to pursue. Some of these were clearly tactically based, concerning forced entry to guarded buildings and the like. Some others, such as the decision on how long to hold a hostage before ultimately ending their life, if that were the plan, disturbed him more by his own ready answers than by the questions themselves.

Eventually, she appeared at his bedroom door one night carrying a satchel. After a liberal amount of heated lovemaking, she revealed the contents. She'd collected a wealth of information on a rich man who styled himself as a master martial artist. Speculation was that he'd stashed enough zeni to live like a king for many lifetimes in his own home out of a distrust of bankers. His mansion was located in a growing city on the eastern part of the continent, north of Mount Paozu. Even better, she'd gushed, the man's mistress had just recently announced that she was pregnant, a perfect hostage should they need one to secure the loot. Every bit of the plan had been put together and poured over with attention to even the slightest detail. His own involvement no small part of it. "We'd be unstoppable!" she'd exclaimed after divulging her intentions.

"I will think on it," had been his simple reply, even as he knew he shouldn't be considering taking part in such a thing. He had no time for it with his training, if for no other reason. Still, he wound up making the decision to take his training on the road, and travel progressed in an easterly direction. The three of them weren't very far from Mount Paozu when Chaozu confronted him.

"You're really considering this?" his trusted companion had asked, disappointment clearly etched on his white face.

"And what of it?" he retorted sharply without thinking. "It was your decision to invite Kushami to join us. Or have you forgotten?"

"I invited Ranchi to join us," Chaozu replied quietly, "or have _you_ forgotten?... But it was a mistake, and I'm sorry for it now."

"I have not committed to anything."

"But you have thought about it. I don't believe you would interrupt our training to do this. I know you have increased time in meditation to keep temptation, however small, at bay. Still, we travel east to appease Kushami."

He saw the truth in this statement, yet could not resist stealing a glance over at Kushami, who sat on the grass not far away, diligently swabbing out the barrel of one of her rifles.

"Should your resolve begin to wane," Chou-tzu continued, "think on this. The man she seeks to rob is very proud, and puts on a good show. He would not want to be publicly shamed by the loss of his money. I have the feeling he is a coward, but would allow his mistress to be taken hostage if only to make a public show of 'saving' her. This would end in disaster. Would you kill not one, but two innocents after all this time? If you do this, Crane Master and Tao Pai Pai will win a victory to surpass any they would have had in killing you at Tenka'ichi Budokai."

"In this, as in many things, you are correct." He'd felt himself shamed at the admission, knowing that, although he'd never intended to go through with the heist, he had let his desire to make an impression on Kushami that fit her view of him, cloud his better judgment. He realized then that in giving in to her that very first night, he'd allowed himself a little more leeway each day in forgoing his personal mission, and saying no to her had only become harder and harder as time went on.

"And you must tell her 'no', now. The longer you wait, the harder it will be."

"Yes." He nodded sharply affirm his decision, drew himself up, and went to deny her.

He'd never really called her a petty thief, just explained his disinterest in petty thievery. She'd taken his words personally, and when he tried another tact, explaining that he was concerned for her well being also, she'd only taken more offense, accusing him of treating her like a child and talking down to her. She'd stormed off, but he'd assumed she'd eventually return as she had in the beginning so many times.

After a month, he began to worry. After two, he fell into the habit of stopping in at police stations whenever they trained near a town or city, in the hopes of finding some news of her. After a year, he'd checked the paper one day and saw that even the police had let her rank drop on the most wanted list. The continent's most eminent detective had even been quoted in regards to this that she appeared to have pulled the most thorough disappearing act ever, if she hadn't been killed somewhere along the line. Six months after that, he'd found himself at Uranai Baba's door, demanding the chance to defeat her champions so that he could know if Lunch was at least still alive.

The witch had rolled her eyes, complaining that her champions were hardly a challenge for the likes of him anymore. "And I suppose you're too poor to pay my fee as well," she sourly griped. "I don't work for free, you know, but I can tell you this, she is no longer on this world."

"So she is dead?" Despair threatened to creep up on him.

The witch had cackled in the face of his trepidation. "I didn't say that, but take it as you will," she quipped as she dismissed him.

He looked over at the very much alive, however changed Lunch, as she piloted the air car. He'd let her drive back to west city as only she knew their ultimate destination. Before he proceeded in attempting any sort of training with her, he needed to know more about what had transpired in her absence. He sensed a difference in her, something almost malevolent just under the surface which pervaded both personalities. Chaozu's assertions that the two personalities had become more entwined with each other appeared to be correct and he had the feeling that this change somehow had let something darker in her begin to surface. He couldn't be sure split form would wrench the two back into separation, if she could even possibly achieve it let alone sustain it.

Her brusque demeanor hadn't abated any, and she brought the aircar to a bumpy landing in a vacant lot in the heart of West City's urban sprawl. She encapsulated the car and jerked her head towards a ragged hole in the fence surrounding the lot, indicating that he should follow.

She led him through the hole into an alley which dead ended at the rear of an abandoned and decrepit building. After kicking around in the rubble strewn about the building's foundation, she produced a short length of rebar. Ignoring the 'no trespassing' sign posted crudely in red spray paint on the one metal clad door, she jammed the makeshift shank into a barely visible crack between the door and its frame, levering it open just enough for the two of them to squeeze through.

As they entered the building, he stopped to let his eyes adjust to the pervading darkness and his nose to the dank and musty smell of disuse overshadowed by the sour tang of urine and rot. By the time he'd become acclimated to the surroundings, which once must have been the ground floor of a hotel or office judging by the remains of furniture that had seen better days, she'd led him through a series of corridors to a set of elevator doors marked 'service'.

Putting the shank to use again, she wedged the doors open enough to push them the rest of the way, revealing an empty shaft which stretched into darkness both above and below.

Before he could suggest otherwise, she gripped the shank in her teeth and stepped into the chasm, landing, as his breath caught in his throat, on a barely visible ledge just inside and below them.

He watched her carefully scale around to the back wall of the shaft and lost his patience with hoping she wouldn't fall when she began fishing around in her vest pocket with one hand while the other gripped some miniscule handhold he couldn't see. Knowing she might berate him, he used buku-jutsu and hovered into the chasm supporting her from behind as she searched her pockets. To his surprise, she offered him a warm smile from around the shank as she produced a tiny key and proceeded to insert it into an unseen lock at the back of the shaft.

A low grinding of machinery springing to life filled the shaft and the back wall slid open, revealing a narrow staircase heading upward.

She hopped out of his grasp and hurried ahead of him up the stairs, her form disappearing into the darkness. He followed, noting that she must be familiar with the steep ascent to have made her way to the top so quickly. He heard her grunt sharply, and then the metallic clang as the length of rebar clattered to the hard floor. He could just make out her struggles with something right before the whine of a gas powered motor echoed in the space around them. Suddenly, the room they stood in flooded with light, and he now saw that she stood in an alcove next to a generator which had sprung to life at her ministrations. She stepped out of the alcove slamming a door shut on the machine and muting its hum.

He looked at his surroundings in awe. They stood in what looked like a well appointed penthouse apartment. His eyes fell over the fine overstuffed leather furniture arranged in the central living area around what he assumed were hand woven silk rugs scattered to cover the polished wood floor. Luxurious drapes framed 'windows' alight with simulated sunlight, which shone fetchingly on the masterwork paintings that graced the walls.

"What is this place?" he asked as he gaped, finally taking in a glass case which displayed a collection of some of the world's most sought after and prized jewels.

"Don't tell me after all that time you trained to be an assassin, you've never seen a safe house." She guffawed as she tossed her bag on one of the sofas and headed for an adjoining room.

He heard the tinkle of glass and followed her into a simple but equally well equipped galley kitchen. She'd opened two bottles of expensive imported beer and held one out to him. He retrieved it absently, still somewhat in shock as he stammered. "Yes, but how did you?... when did you?..."

"It's mine. You didn't think I just stashed all my loot away somewhere to collect dust, did you? I bought it years ago from a um… coworker. Thanks to his unfortunate er… passing, no one else knows about it but me… and now you." She grinned with feigned wickedness as she leaned back against the granite countertop. "Surely you realize if you were to tell anyone I'd have to kill you."

"But if you had all this, why did you stay at Kame house for so long?"

"Why not? I knew this wasn't goin' anywhere." She replied offhandedly, but for a moment he watched her features change again, revealing something wistful and longing, almost vulnerable. Perhaps she saw his recognition of this and she quickly turned her attention to her drink, downing a good portion of it.

He looked away, not wanting to antagonize her with his concern. He knew she didn't want him to see her as weak, and he'd be less likely to get her to explain whatever trials she'd been through if he angered her. As he did, his gaze fell on a collection of books and strange looking objects strewn over the countertop. Some of these glittered with an unnatural refraction of the light, leading him to believe that she had acquired more jewels, probably illicitly, in her travels.

He motioned to the small collection, sensing a reasonable opening. "Is this why you are being followed by the man you described to our friends?"

"Oh, that?" She shrugged and fetched another bottle from the refrigerator. "No. I figure that stuff's just a pay off for my trouble. You could say I'm being followed because of a serious breach in the working relationship we had, he and I. He doesn't give a crap about these things, dipshit that he is." For a moment he thought she was going to spit in disgust, then she just shrugged. "Granted, out there, the big payoff is in pinching whole planets. This here's just a collection of scraps, but well enough to make out just fine for someone living outside of the law…"

"Entire worlds?" His mind's eye filled with scenes from the vision she'd shared with him and he realized the pervading sense of coercion he'd felt had everything to do with the fact that the atrocities she'd committed were well within whatever served as law beyond their own planet.

"Yeah. Everything here's just small potatoes. But, there's plenty to be skimmed for someone with the skills to stay under the radar. Lots of opportunity out there…"

He recognized that she had every intention of taking advantage of that opportunity, and frowned deeply in his disapproval.

She frowned back at him. "Look, if you're thinking I sold you out, it's not like that. Raditzu wasn't coming here anyway. If you want to blame anybody, point your finger at Goku. Raditzu wouldn't even bother with this place himself if his…" She returned her attention to her drink as though she'd just stopped herself from revealing something, and choked on a mouthful of beer. The carbonation must have bubbled up into the back of her nose and she sneezed, leaving Ranchi to do the explaining.

He started at the sudden transformation, while Ranchi immediately fell into his arms, sobbing, letting the beer bottle fall to the floor with a crash and a sploosh of liquid.

"Oh, Tenshinhan, I tried to stop him! There was nothing I could do. He's so very strong and just so… so… mean!" She thrust the word out between her weeping, obviously at a loss for anything more descriptive.

Not knowing any other way to react, he wrapped his arms around her and let her cry, burying her face in his chest. "Don't worry," he whispered, trying to soothe her, "we'll find a way to stop him."

"No!" she wailed. "You don't understand. I thought if only… if only I could find a way to please him, he might leave this place alone. But Goku… Goku… there's hardly anyone else left of their race… there was no way…"

He felt a twinge of jealousy at the thought of her having to 'please' another man, even if she hadn't exactly been the woman he'd had a relationship with, and even though he couldn't be sure entirely what that entailed. He put his hands on her shoulders and stepped back to look her over.

"Did he hurt you?" It seemed like a stupid question under the circumstances, but he suddenly wanted to make the impending challenge more than saving the world. All at once, it felt very personal.

"Yes… but n-no!" she stammered, rapidly looking more afraid than comforted. His scrutiny brought on a new wave of tears. ' I – I thought I'd never see you, any of you again. I was so frightened I just… I just…" She hid her face in her hands, trying to gain some control, and finally looked up at him sheepishly. "I didn't want to die," she whispered, with something of defeat reflected in her eyes.

He attempted to draw her back into his arms, but she skirted away. "We WILL defeat him," he repeated strongly, not knowing what else he could do but promise to exorcise this demon that had obviously terrorized her, perhaps for her entire absence.

"But…but even all of you together won't be strong enough," she said, shaking he head in denial of his declaration. "and…" she sobbed again, "it's partly my fault. I even helped him. He didn't know how to hide his ki and I showed him." She suddenly became even more panic stricken. "He could be here already and we wouldn't even know it."

"No," he said with conviction, gently grasping her shoulders again and looking into her tear filled eyes. "Someone as evil as you describe – I'm sure we will feel something at his arrival. And I believe we are strong enough. We have to be, so we will be. Let him come, and let this other one Bulma described follow. We will be ready."

"You still don't see," she whimpered. "Not only is he stronger than all of the fighters on this world put together, he is very, very angry with me, and he'll take it out on everyone." She looked back into his eyes with an intensity he'd never seen in her before. "Especially you. And Goku… he believes that Goku is like him, and when he finds out that he's not, it'll be even worse. The only way you could even hope to have a chance is to get Piccolo to help us, and then we're going to have to do something terrible."

Before he could ask any more questions she sneezed again. Kushami looked down at the spilt beer and smirked. "Heh. She's so fucking dramatic, isn't she?"

It took him a moment to respond, having to remind himself that each personality now had awareness of the other, and that he'd agreed with Chaozu to be responsible for helping with that as well as whatever was on the way from outer space. She scoffed at his hesitation while producing a hand-rolled cigarette from her pocket. She lit it and blew a cloud of pungent and unfamiliar smelling smoke in his face.

"Call it dramatics if you must… Do you believe in this impending doom, or is it all just Ranchi's hysterics?"

"Odds are, yes, we're doomed. But that's never stopped you guys before, so I figured what the hell." She took a large pull off of the burning punk hanging from her mouth, this stime blowing a substantial plume of smoke towards the ceiling.

"What is it that we have to do that is so terrible then? I hope it will not be a repeat of your indiscretion at the museum. You realize that when we do have a chance, we must find the dragonballs and wish all of those unfortunates back."

"Yeah, about that. I really didn't mean to mow through there as much as I did. I was still kinda' in meat grinder mode from my last few jobs, and I forgot just how much of a wallop my new toy packs on low levels." She glanced over at the very large weapon that lay among the things lining the countertops. "We have too much to do in too short a time to go looking for dragonballs though."

"And this terrible thing?" He prodded, wondering if she would actually divulge whatever plan she had.

"We have to convince Piccolo Jr. to help us. Thing is, even if he fights on our side, it still won't be enough, so the best way he can start helping is to nearly kill Goku." He gasped slightly. "Multiple times, until he can't even come close to hurting him."

"But why ever…?"

"Because the kind of alien Goku is gets stronger every time they get beat down. The harder the better," she interrupted before he could elaborate on the question. His mind immediately began weighing how difficult keeping up with Goku's strength in his own training had become. He wondered at Goku's potential strength and what limits it had, if any.

"But, with the kind of time we've got," she continued, "at least the first go around will have to be a surprise, upping the odds, since I don't know if Piccolo can even do this once. Plus, we need to be sure there's enough senzu beans, because we don't have time for licking wounds and all that."

"Why convince Piccolo at all? In my estimation he would be happy to do such a thing."

"It's the part where he leaves Goku alive we'll have to do the convincing about." She smirked again, as though he should have already known this.

"And if he refuses?"

"That's where the failsafe comes in," she said as she slid some books out of the way revealing a rice cooker similar to the one he remembered breaking years ago. He stifled another gasp and stepped forward to take a closer look at it.

"You realize the Mafu-ba means death if I should use it?"

"Aw, hell. I 'd think you'd at least try and get the old man to do that if we need it…"

"And the last time, Piccolo reversed it on Kami himself." He scrutinized the strange symbols on the omamori. "What does it say?"

"Wards against demons, good luck and the usual stuff," she said offhandedly. "That's not really why I brought it for you, mostly just to corroborate my story."

"Which is?"

"You just let me worry about that and you hang on to that thing for safekeeping…"

"You must tell me, does it already have anything in it?"

"Fuck if I know. Go ahead and find out if you want. You're the one with the psychic little buddy. All I care is it's probably worth a bunch of credits. We'll just sell it off when we're done here." She turned to the sink and stubbed out the butt of here cigarette therein.

"We?"

"Yeah. Of course I was going to invite you with me when I go back out there." He noted that she kept her back turned to him, shoulders hunched as she said this. "Think of all the training you could do. There's places with higher gravity than here. Heck, standard grav on ships is at least twice what it is here. I know for a fact that'll help you. I've heard of two people squeezing into those pods before. I'll even let you toss Chaozu in the boot if you wanna bring him. I'm sure it would only be a little while before we could buy something bigger with all the loot we got here…"

"But the Briefs dismantled the pod." He struggled to find something to dissuade her from the insane plan she was apparently set on.

"Well, there's people on their way with more, right?" She turned back to face him and nudged him with her elbow, now practically beaming in her triumph in coming up with the solution to lack of space transport .

He saw that subtlety wouldn't work. She was way beyond that. "I won't go with you."

Her face communicated utter disappointment for only a moment before returning to something of a grin, albeit more of a strained grimace. "Suit yourself. That's twice I invited you and most people don't get asked once." She crossed her arms over her chest defensively as she huffed back into the living area.

"I won't take you to see Piccolo either," he called after her as he followed.

"Don't need you to." Her reply came back muffled as she was pulling something that looked like armor over her head and had her back to him. She turned back around as she affixed a strange eyepiece to her head and proceeded to work what must have been controls on the side of the apparatus. "Best get busy. I'd go looking for senzu if I were you."


	14. Interlopers

Ransom Due – Chapter 14 – Interlopers

Piccolo felt the warmth creep over him and then the darkness and swirling patterns behind his eyelids brightened slightly to take on a muted green hue. He opened his eyes to greet the newly risen sun and stretched his prone body just enough to feel which muscles had kinked up. He didn't really sleep, but found that when darkness blanketed the world his energy did deplete somewhat. Falling into the routine of laying down and doing nothing for the night in emulation of the human worms, a sort of pseudo sleep, did amplify the reenergizing effects of the returning sunlight. Rote activity and discipline helped his training as well.

He rose and took a slow walk down to the banks of the small waterway that had become one of his favorite parts of the wilderness locale he had chosen as something of a home. More specifically, his favorite part was the waterfall that cascaded violently over a chiseled cliff interrupting the lazy meander of the river's flow. The clean refreshing fluid made for good sustenance as well. As he reached his destination, he concentrated briefly, materializing a ceramic bottle with which to collect water and mulled over his dilemma.

His greatest rival had become nothing more than a mere domestic. The world could not be riper for the plucking of his all-powerful demon grasp. He believed he could easily take his rightful place as king and lord of all; assume his due inheritance in a reign of fear and destruction without challenge. But without confrontation, without resistance, his prize and the vengeance of his sire's death had less worth.

So, he had elected to wait for the boy. Not very long after Goku's whelp grew out of babyhood, he showed a prospectively potent strength, though it ebbed and flowed erratically. Eventually the boy could prove to be a more than worthy rival. While surreptitiously watching Goku's brood he observed what he thought must be meager attempts by the boy to control his ki, hovering short distances rather than climbing or falling and the like. Sure the human woman wielded more than enough influence over the boy to possibly stifle his potential as much, perhaps even more than it had caused decline in the father. Yet, Piccolo had sensed just enough rebellion in the boy to believe that the wait would be worthwhile.

He began spying on the Son household on a regular basis just to witness those occasional tiny sparks of revolt, the subtle use of potentially powerful ki that the boy exercised when he thought no one was watching. He knew instinctively that the time to act, to stoke the spark to flame and then raging inferno would come soon. But when? The clouded memories and intuition of his sire told him an outside influence, in addition to anything he could provide, would be necessary. What though? What would break the boy out of his shell and prompt him to unleash and hone the power he carried within him? It could be something as simple as frustration with the endless studies his mother forced upon him or something entirely earth-shattering. The answer to that question would come with time, he could only wait and watch until then.

He took a long drink out of the bottle, dipped it back in the water to top it off and tucked it into the sash around his waist. After splashing some water over his face to completely shake off the sluggishness from his nighttime rest, he powered up and flew to the cliff's precipice where the river bottlenecked and crashed downward. He assumed a lotus position and levitated there to begin his morning meditations. No sooner had he closed his eyes then he heard an almost imperceptible undercurrent to the white noise of the waterfall. His sensitive ears pricked in annoyance as he identified the sound, one of the humans' capsule planes. The closest human settlement was miles away, and rumors of the Demon King living in this wilderness kept them from disturbing him. Who of them would presume to interrupt his meditations?

Strange that one of the humans would actually seek him out. Even the most foolhardy adventure seeker gave his domain a wide berth. His public showing at the 23rd Tenka'ichi Budokai had insured his complete privacy for several years now. Perhaps this one didn't watch television, or had a short memory. Piccolo prepared to make a good showing of fierceness and bluster to send them on their way. The appearance of a female exiting the small transport surprised him even more. Weren't they all soft, fearful things that his very appearance set to shrieking? As the figure made its way towards him, he realized that this one had been at the Budokai, in the front row in fact. He remembered her because one of the few spectacles that actually entertained him that day was the sight of this human woman irreverently kicking the Old Man into a ditch. Too bad she would have to find out the hard way that the Demon King had no tolerance for such disrespect. He supposed there could be worse starts to a day than killing a human.

"Not easy to get a bead on you," she announced as she fiddled with some odd device worn on her head. "Whaddya do? Turn everything down when you're sleepin' or something?"

Piccolo put on his most contemptuous glare and asked a question he was relatively sure she already knew the answer to, but it presented a good opportunity to bare his fangs. "Do you know to whom you speak?"

"Yeah, yeah, Great Demon King and all 'o that. I came to do business, though, not chit chat."

The silly human showed no fear, but he could sense a good portion of it just below the surface of her audacity. Perhaps the large weapon she carried gave her some sense of security. He scoffed at her outwardly and motioned to the gun. "Such human contrivance will afford you no safety here. The Great Demon King has no business with the likes of you. Leave me now or perish."

"Oh, good thing there ain't nothing human about this here gun, then." she replied, patting the weapon lovingly. "I think if you take a moment, you might take a shine to the deal I have to make you."

He didn't even bother to give the weapon a second glance. He certainly didn't sense anything special about it. He decided he'd give this human consideration for making such a good show of things and give it one more chance to vacate the premises. He made another presentation of his fangs as he fired a warning blast of ki from his antennae at her feet.

The human surprised him again by raising her weapon to the fore sooner than his blast hit. Then something he absolutely never would have expected happened. The impact stirred up the grass at her feet sending pollen into the air and she sneezed. Suddenly, a completely different woman stood in her place. If she hadn't looked totally different, he would have known by his senses that everything about her had changed. Her ki fluctuated and then dropped rapidly, overridden by fear so conspicuous he could almost smell it.

Then everything changed again. The woman's ki skyrocketed in a surge so palpable he found his heart suddenly in his throat. Her ki fluttered between exorbitant and nearly non-existent before settling in to a range he supposed was below his own, but still formidable.

"Snarky as ever, eh?" She chided him in a disturbingly gravelly and un-feminine voice. Her eyes took on a threatening appearance despite her stance. She opened her arms as if to invite an embrace. "Shall we?" Strange looking black and green spots, almost like hives or welts began erupting on her skin. His mind struggled to wrap around this new information when she rushed him. Right before the first blow connected with his hasty block, it dawned on him why her eyes taunted him so. Her pupils had become vertical slits.

"Without doubt, any attempt at mating would severely injure or kill you. Nevertheless, you will service me when I demand it and as I see fit," Raditzu glowered down at her.

Ranchi dared not look up at him for longer than it took to note the heated look of both anger and hunger in his eyes, but casting her gaze downward only showed her the evidence that he meant to make good on the hunger part. Her eyes widened at the distended appearance of his fatigue bottoms. He wore the regulation uniform from the tournament, which had no armored skirt and left absolutely nothing to the imagination. Her mind's eye conjured up an image of taking the entirety of his girth past her lips, gagging, practically suffocating, and she found herself struggling to reconcile fear and anticipation. Unconsciously backing away from him, she found that the swampy earth of planet Freiza 75 sucked at her feet, virtually rooting her to the spot. Fighting to neither shed tears nor make a sound, which she knew would only make things go all the worse, she could only shake her head in disbelief of the situation. She muddled for clarification in her confused memories. She stood in a perfectly wonderful stretch of Chikyuu forest just a second ago, hadn't she? Besides, he seldom, if ever, looked on her with any sense of desire and if he had it was quickly replaced by something akin to disgusted pity.

"On your knees!" he growled, obviously taking her reaction for denial of him. He forced her down, much too roughly, on what had all at once become Andolonusian hard-pack.

Pain shot through her legs as her kneecaps connected with the ground. An audible snap caused her stomach to flip flop before unbearable pain registered. Unable to hold on any longer, she cried out, her screams diminishing to a defeated moan upon noticing the bloody trail she left as she scrambled feebly backward, realization dawning that he'd most likely crippled her.

"Oh, please! Cease your wailing," he sneered. "Or shall I just do it for you?" He grasped her hair in his favored spot with one hand, forcing her to look up at him as he began jerking down his fatigues with the other.

"No! No, you don't have to, I'll do as you say," she pleaded through deep, jagged breaths, striving to regain some kind of control, although the words came out in a high-pitched whimper indicating a loosing battle.

"Tell me something I don't know!" he laughed, and she could've sworn she saw serpentine fangs lacing his mouth and a flash of red in his eyes. The sight set her to trembling in fear, but she continued, knowing that to acquiesce to his demands couldn't possibly be any worse than if she fought him.

"Not like this, please. I'll do whatever you ask, willingly. You don't have to force me, I… I want to." Silent tears began streaming at the half whispered declaration, not just because it felt like letting go of a little piece of herself, but in some twisted, sickening way it was true. Maybe it had been for a long time.

"Is that so?" he hissed, kneeling with her so that his eyes, pupil-less and unforgiving, bored into hers.

"No. Not really," a deeply feminine voice broke in from behind him.

His grip loosened in his surprise and Ranchi quickly pressed herself as close to the ground as possible. Recognizing the voice, she knew what would surely come next.

Raditzu, or more accurately, the thing that looked like him, didn't have a chance to turn and face her counterpart before concussion blaster fire ripped through him. Gaping wounds dripped something green and slimy before closing upon themselves in a wave of regenerating flesh, also conspicuously green.

Ranchi didn't get to see what happened next as her counterpart ran past and grabbed her by the arm, dragging her to a safer distance and raining another volley of fire at the thing before it could regain complete solidity. Her legs still protested with pain, but they worked, at least enough to facilitate retreat.

"Idiot!" Kushami yelled over another round of fire, "you're not supposed to let that monster past, remember?"

"Huh?"

"Now all of this is beginning to make sense. You haven't really been paying attention, have you? Been too busy showing up on my time and stuff. Not smart." They skidded to a halt behind one of the crumbling shanties from Freiza 75. Kushami began hurriedly stuffing Andelonian opals into the battery chamber of the blaster between quick glances around the corner of the structure. Ranchi wanted to look and see if their pursuer was close, but an earsplitting insectoid chattering from the direction they'd come made her think better of it.

Kushami grabbed a wad of her shirt and pulled, getting her attention. "Well, you're on now. I'll take care of things here. Remember, follow the plan. Don't screw this up or we're both completely fucked. Got it?"

Ranchi gasped as the scene dissolved into nearly blinding sunlight. The ground under her knees cushioned her in its rich carpet of grass. A throbbing pain did course through her legs, but minor welts were the only evidence of the ki attack that had caused them on account of her dropping to the ground fast enough for her armored skirt to absorb much of the energy. However, she looked up to see something as bad as the monster she half expected. Piccolo stood over her, his white cape swirling in the breeze behind him making him look every bit the Demon King he declared himself to be.

"And this display is supposed to convince me of what?" he said evenly as his eyes narrowed in suspicion.

She licked her lips and swallowed, replaying in her mind what she'd heard of the Other's conversation with him. Her mouth felt dry as a desert and she wanted whatever words that came out to sound at least more convincing than a desiccated squawk.

"Look." Standing on shaky legs she lifted the armor enough to show the welts. "I know there must've been a lot of power in that attack and what I'm wearing stopped most of it. If someone is coming here whose clothes can stop you by themselves, maybe you should listen to what I have to say."

"Then perchance I shall just remove their clothes first."

"That's not what I…" She stopped mid sentence. The smooth, almost warm timbre of his voice put her off guard, and was that a hint of a grin? Could it be possible that the reincarnation of the Great Demon King Piccolo had just cracked something of a joke at her expense? What he'd said and the thought of him trying to be funny made her smile.

"Insolent fool!" He roared suddenly. "Do you have the slightest inkling of the wrath you seek to incur?"

"Eek! No wrath! N-no wrath please!" She held up her shaking hands in surrender, realizing that she had left the concussion blaster far from arm's reach. Maybe if she'd kept it, she could have at least blasted and disoriented him for long enough to run away. But, no, her counterpart was right. She'd spent too much time watching and it deluded her thinking. She didn't have the skill to even handle such a weapon, let alone actually hit an intended target with it. Anger at the inequity of this fact began to override her fear, but she made an effort to drive it away recognizing it as what had sent her into that strange dream-place where a true fiend waited to devour her. She started to plead with Piccolo to hear her case, but didn't get the chance.

"Come," he said simply before she opened her mouth again. Then he turned in a grand gesture and began walking up to the nearby woods, cape billowing with him.

"O-ok then," she said to his back, not knowing if he even heard. Then she remembered the jade statue in the bag and ran to retrieve it and the concussion blaster, just in case, and followed him under the thick canopy of trees.

AN: Apologies again for the loooooooooooooooooong wait for an update. This is becoming harder and harder to find time for with a bunch of other things going on in RL, but I try. I'm still concerned that Lunch (the nice version mostly) is somewhat OOC, but I suppose that could be explained by the fact that both personalities being aware of each other would change each a little. Oh, yeah, and I guess the true villain has been revealed.

_What?! Are you saying I am not a true villain?_

Raditz, dear. Sorry, I don't really think that in the original series you were… errrrr… yeah… donuts. There's plenty. In the pantry… You're certainly welcome to them you…you… villainous cur! bats eyelashes

Uh... yeah. If the above doesn't show good reason for me to steer clear of this fic, I don't know what does. Thanks to everyone who still reads and reviews.


	15. Negotiations

**Ransom Due – Chapter 15 - Negotiations**

Lunch followed the white cape into the woods despite every fiber of her being telling her she should be running in the opposite direction. After a short walk they reached a place where a tree had fallen, its bark rotting and long overgrown with vines. The Demon King gestured to it.

"Sit," he commanded.

She did so without a second thought let alone mention of the possibility of poison ivy or biting insects. Any such complaints that would impede instant compliance to direct orders trained from her reactions long ago.

Piccolo remained standing, his stance indicating that he had no intention of doing otherwise. He produced a bottle from the folds of his tunic and took a long draught from it, then tossed it at her. She lifted her hand and easily caught it, wondering, not for the first time since coming home, at how the air offered no resistance to her movements in comparison to the standard gravity settings on Missionary.

"Drink." Another command. She lifted the bottle to her lips automatically, then paused. If she couldn't even do anything but stare stupidly up at him and follow orders, even if she was terribly thirsty, how would she ever convince him to agree to a bargain on her terms? The feeling of impending doom threatened to swallow her yet again, the realization that she was playing with the fire of madness, sure to be burned.

"It's only water," he said sternly, noting her hesitation. She glanced suspiciously at the bottle's opening, deliberately lowering and wiping it on her sleeve before taking a swig.

"That doesn't mean there's not Demon cooties on it or something," she declared, forcing herself to hold eye contact with him as she handed the bottle back, embracing the madness for all it was worth. He raised an eye-ridge slightly at her small rebellion, then resumed peering down at her as though she were a germ in a petrie dish. An awkward silence settled between them for a few moments in which he looked her over at arm's length, his antennae occasionally twitching and his green lips pursed in concentration. She finally found no point in delaying her inevitable demise and broke the silence.

"Sooo... I guess you're wondering why I came out here..." she ventured, her voice faltering slightly before taking on a resolute strength she hadn't heard in her own speech very often.

"No. I care nothing for your motivation." Again, his tone of voice was surprisingly calm, more quizzical than angry. "I sense... I have _seen_ demon-spawn within you. I want to know how this is possible."

She wanted to protest that she had no idea what he was talking about, deny the thing she'd spent half a lifetime burying within herself, but the mental image of blood drenched palms and the terrified wails of children flashed through her mind. It irrevocably reminded her of the fact that even if there were a way to save the whole world from the destruction Raditzu or the rest of Freiza's army would surely unleash upon it, somehow she'd lost a battle she foolishly thought was already long won and forgotten. Her defeat in that fight could bring consequences more dire than any Saiyan purge, and not just for her world. She opened her mouth to try and explain the unexplainable, something that she could hardly make sense of herself. Instead, lies streamed forth as easily as a seasoned actor would recall and perform what was written in a script.

"It must be because of this," she declared, lifting the jade statue from the bag as if on cue then tossing it slightly so that if flipped over making an inscription carved on the base more readable. "It says here that the Great Demon King, your papa, I guess, hid a little bit of his soul inside this artifact. Maybe it's catching?" She bounced the thing on her palm one more time before it exploded, showering her with green shards. She gasped, as much from the shock of the words leaving her mouth practically unbidden as having to guard against the shrapnel.

Piccolo laughed; a low, threatening chuckle that amplified into a full-on maniacal cackle. Charged air danced and sparked around his upraised palm. "You don't think I actually believe the folklore humans have attached to my existence in order to justify their fears? I would sense if some piece of myself were stored away somewhere. One more chance before I end this conversation. Permanently."

Ranchi stared, transfixed at the power he held at the ready, certain she'd be unable to continue, but again, the words left her lips as naturally as if she'd thought the whole plan out ahead herself. "Are you sure? Can you sense something tucked far, far from your reach, say... on another planet?"

"What are...?"

She continued, interrupting him despite herself. "My guess is the old man's been taking you for a ride since the beginning. He left a little piece of himself behind on his way here, just in case. Why else would he be willing to let Goku splatter you in the Budokai? Maybe it wasn't in that particular piece," she shrugged indicating the green slivers littering the undergrowth, "but I just got back from a very long trip. I might've stumbled across the place you actually came from, picked up a little something on the way through..."

"Hmph." He put out the charging ki abruptly and crossed his arms over his chest, smirking. "So I'm an alien? I suppose it makes sense..." He put on an obviously exaggerated thoughtful expression to punctuate his sarcasm.

"Ha! Don't tell me you actually considered yourself one of us?" She blurted uncontrollably and then clamped both hands over her mouth in an attempt to at least gain some kind of reign over herself.

"No. I would never stoop so low," he jeered as he closed in on her slowly, deliberately blocking out the available sunlight in the shadow of his cape. She could feel her eyes practically popping out of her head in terror as she nearly fell backwards from her perch. "So what is this? You propose a trade? This supposed long lost piece of myself for what?"

She tentatively lowered her hands, hoping that whatever she said next would do something aside from inviting him to blast her to smithereens where she sat. This time, nothing came automatically. Left to her own devices, she offered the only words readily available, the ones overriding everything else since her escape. "Help us."

He laughed again. "Not even the intrigue you offer by the mere suggestion of this would prompt me to grant you sniveling vermin such a boon. I…" He stopped suddenly and turned away from her, scanning the woods in the direction they'd come. "…didn't put out a welcome mat this morning."

With that, he powered up and shot into the trees before she could formulate a response. She heard the sound of snapping timber in his path interspersed by a series of beeps and realized the scouter had honed in on not just Piccolo's power, but an approaching ki as well. She pushed at the control key to get a numerical reading and started running when the display gave it to her.

"Tenshinhan. Oh no!"

She stumbled over the tangle of broken branches Piccolo left in his wake and fell, thankfully feeling a familiar itch rise in the back of her nose. She tried her best to produce the sneeze but it didn't come, so instead she fought the instinct to sit where she was and let things unfold on their own. She crawled, leaf litter sticking to her palms and mud coating her still smarting shins, then tripped along, finally breaking into a full run, vaulting obstacles as she came to them. Branches whipped at her unnoticed for the sudden awareness of willpower that surged through her. She broke out of the woods just in time to see Piccolo and Ten facing off.

She had to stop them. The Earth needed every available fighter for the coming battle, and Goku had to be ready. He needed to be ready because in the end another Saiya-jin was the human race's best chance at salvation. He needed to be ready because…

"_Let go! Can't you see I'm already dead?!"_

The words echoed around the walls of her memory just as they had bounced back at her from the cold stone of the Andolonusian cavern along with the clatter of the canteen Raditzu had violently knocked from her grasp as she'd tried to get him to drink. Her mind threw up an image to go with it, the telltale signs of Andelonian Flu infection beginning to etch his skin and his sunken eyes so full of absolute despair…

"_Believe me when I tell you that finding yourself as the very last of your race brings with it a burden of loneliness that is nearly unbearable."_

She stood at the edge of the tree line and huffed the damp morning air, the burst of energy and certainty leaving her as quickly as it had overtaken her. The scouter shrilly whined in her ear as the two combatants' power levels spiked sharply.

"H-hey!" Winded and hoarse from running, her voice didn't carry far enough to reach the fighters, let alone be heard over the heated air rushing towards them as they gathered power. She hadn't even remembered to bring the concussion blaster with her this time. Having no other means with which to get their attention, save for getting closer to the impending battle (and she certainly had enough experience to know that could be a fatal mistake) she took a deep breath to try again. The sneeze she couldn't produce earlier unexpectedly burst forth.

Kushami reached behind her and grabbed at the two hoi-poi capsules she'd stuffed into the seam connecting the skirted part of her armor to the breastplate. She thumbed them open as she brought her hands around to fire the two 9mm pistols she'd stashed there, regretting that she hadn't brought home a couple of standard issue blasters. Yeah, they were pretty weak in comparison to what even a low level warrior could do throwing ki around, but they sure made a hell of a noise. Her weapons came into view as she pulled the triggers, and there they were – the blasters she'd just thought about. Two beams of white light erupted from the barrels and converged over the fighters' heads, sending an ear shattering whip-crack echoing off the nearby cliffs.

All the energy mounting between the two warriors abruptly dissipated as though someone had flipped a switch. A small flock of birds that somehow hadn't vacated the premises previously flew screeching in fear out of the woods, their cries and flapping wings suddenly the only sound overlaying the waterfall's rush. Piccolo wheeled around, his face contorted into a grimace combining the worst of pain and piss-off. Kushami brushed off any doubt over what her counterpart had managed in her absence, made a split decision to ignore the appearance of the blasters, and mostly shrugged off the blood curdling fear that any rational being should have while held in such a gaze by the world's self professed Demon King. She puffed out her chest and brandished her weapons, declaring, "Your negotiations are with me, and part of the bargain is that you leave the other strong fighters of this world unharmed."

Piccolo glared. "Really? Your terms are too steep then." He whipped back around as though to rush Ten, who remained locked into a fighting stance looking perfectly unyielding and focused on his opponent despite her interruption. Her heart swelled unbidden at his dedication and pure heroism. She nearly let herself be distracted.

"Except for one," she called out and started approaching regardless of the danger.

"Oh?" Piccolo must have put all his momentum into turning around and meeting her halfway, because he unexpectedly hovered just a foot of the ground right in front of her, his glare bearing down like a ton of bricks.

She brushed it off and shrugged, crossing her arms over her chest and letting the blasters hang loose in her grip as though she found any threat he posed innocuous. Having survived Raditzu's use of the same tactic over the course of a couple of years almost made it easy. She blew a stray lock of hair out of her eyes and locked his gaze. "Yeah. Son Goku's just hanging around, mindin' his own business up on Mount Paozu. Isn't it time ya' did somethin' about it?"

Piccolo raised an eye ridge and lowered himself to the ground. "These are your terms? I'm beginning to doubt your sense of rationality, much less your claims to knowledge of my past." He leaned in, almost nose to nose with her.

"Yes. Those are the terms. All I ask is you leave the rest of these guys out of it," she gestured toward Ten, "and you leave Goku alive. Other than that, just don't pull your punches."

"I see. How convenient. All of this fits in nicely with my own plans for this world, but for letting Son live, never mind that it makes little sense and is therefore suspect along with the rest of your claims. Why should I agree to this?"

"Something is coming, and after that, nothing you ever thought of will even matter…" Her gaze drifted back over to Ten, yet at the ready in case something should go wrong, but still letting her handle this. She resisted the urge to just shove the Demon King aside and go to him. She knew her focus had begun to wane dangerously, and suddenly didn't care. "It'll be better for everyone…"

A moment went by in which she thought she'd surely meet her end, that she'd played the psych-out card one time too many and the Demon King would call her bluff and finish it all right there. She began reassuring herself with the fact that at least it wasn't Raditzu when Piccolo simply said "Done." and began walking back toward the waterfall.

"Now, remove yourselves from my abode before I change my mind, and remember," he threw back over his shoulder, "I expect a worthy return on my investment."

It felt like everything let out a sigh of relief. Even the waterfall sounded somewhat louder. "Wow, that was close," said a small voice over her shoulder. She looked up to see Chaozu floating there, his eyes locked on the retreating Piccolo.

"You been there the whole time, little man?"

"Yes. I'm not sure that I could help against Piccolo, but it would have been worth a try."

"How'd you…"

"Just a little trick of the mind I learned to make it less likely people notice me. Most of the time it's not very hard at all." He looked away and she followed his gaze to Ten exchanging warning looks with Piccolo as he passed. "I guess we better go?"

"Yeah." She stopped herself again from running to Ten and throwing herself into his arms and instead started walking back into the woods. "Just lemmie get my gun."

_AN - Long time coming with this one. Sorry about that. I'm simmering something but no guarantees that I can step things up any or even continue to keep updating. I occasionally get the urge to crank out another chapter, but real life is rather demanding at the moment. The random heckling - that I'm _a terrible shot and don't get my gun (pshaw! what the hell good is only six shots going to do when you could spray semi-auto?) out enough anyway_... or conversely_ what kind of idiot would keep so little food around their living quarters, especially where glazed doughnuts and beer are concerned _- has died down to less than an occasional blip on my mental radar. It appears my muses have better places to be at the moment, but they're the type that would just love to make one feel safe only to attack unexpectedly and mercilessly, so you never know..._


	16. Chapter 16

A/N : I wrote the next two chapters a while ago and wasn't sure I'd post them. I've been thinking about writing some more so I decided to just go ahead and put them here, despite my failure in actually writing anything after without immediately deleting it. I'd really just like to get this thing finished one day though.

***************

"_You'll die too if he kills me!"_

"_Heh… It'll be worth the trade-off…!"_

"_Wh-what did you say?!... You're insane!"_

"_If it's the only way… to defeat you…"_

The image of two figures, one grappling the other from behind, struggled in the circle of salt on the parlor floor. The facsimile blurred and became partially transparent as a hand waved through it.

"Neither one of those is my son," the client said to the oni in a patronizing tone that matched both the nerve he'd got to disturb the ritual boundary and his fancy three piece suit. The oni struggled to reset the link with the Oracle, pressing her fingers a little more insistently into his sweat bathed temples as he writhed against his bonds. The image of the two struggling warriors wavered again and their exclamations became garbled. The Oracle's eyes rolled back into his skull so that only the bloodshot whites were visible and his back arched nearly half a meter off the marble slab he was shackled to.

The tableau displayed suddenly exploded with a violet-white light and the Oracle snarled through the metal bit in his mouth, necessary due to a previous incident when he'd nearly bitten his tongue off completely. Of course, his body not being truly corporeal, it grew back as soon as he willed it, but it took him a while to do so. At first the oni thought it was some twisted form of self flagellation, but then she realized that she actually had felt somewhat guilty about the episode and he knew it. So he prolonged her mental anguish by refusing to heal himself properly.

The glaring light died down and the image disappeared entirely. The Oracle simultaneously slumped back down on the slab, unconscious.

"Well, bugger!" the oni exclaimed as she rose from kneeling beside the Oracle's now supine form and started to undo the shackles.

"That's it?" the client huffed incredulously.

"That's it. And we thank you for your patronage. Off with you, then." She shrugged into a diaphanous robe to cover the skimpy classical tunic she wore for dramatic effect during readings and went about sweeping up the ring of salt laid around the slab.

"What!? I came a long way to see what my son is doing with his life! You showed me nothing! Return my payment!"

"No guarantees are implied, no refunds. Sorry." She glanced over at the Oracle and half hoped he'd wake up. Letting him do the job of ushering dissatisfied clients off the island was always good for some entertainment, if somewhat destructive. The thing was, customers usually got what they came for, no problem. It was rather distressing when things didn't pan out smoothly; it always made her wonder if something wasn't wrong with her charge. Forget about the fact that the bastard would probably cue in to her concern and start yet another round of quarreling through it somehow. Ah, well, at least such things provided a way to pass the time between clients.

"Look, don't you know who I am? I'm not leaving until I get what I came for or return of my payment…"

"Who you _were_ doesn't matter. Really, right now you're only a puffle of disembodied spirit. I only let you pretend to have a body on this island as part of the reading. It's all so much more theatrical, no?" She went to the other side of the parlor to look over the stack of books he'd brought as payment. "The way you came's good as any to leave. Good bye."

The client was beginning to bluster about a verbal contract in regards to her services and all kinds of legal mumbo jumbo that might have applied on the mortal plane.

"They never seem to get it that this is Hell, not a holiday," she grumbled, glancing back over at the Oracle. She thought she saw the corner of his lips twitch slightly as if he were trying to hide an amused smile as he lay on the slab supposedly out cold. Bastard! She sighed. She'd have to remove Three Piece Suit by herself.

She put a halt to her perusal of the books, exasperated to be interrupted. She'd just begun flipping through one titled "Untamed Longings" that looked to be quite juicy - something about a nurse tending to a handsome patient. A shame to not be able to get down to reading that one right away, she thought, putting it back on the stack. She closed her eyes and concentrated, summoning the blood sea that began less than a kilometer outside her front door. She had a great view from her palace as the sea spread as far as could be observed to the horizon and either direction until the alabaster shore curved back around on itself.

The client continued his ranting for only a short time longer before noticing the mounting high-pitched hum and fetid breeze blustering in from the front verandah. The red mist followed before he could protest. It swept in, coalescing into heaving figures that could have been humanoid, could've been something else as they swarmed him, groaning. They lifted the client in a red whirlwind seething with noise, flaying his fancy suit and then his borrowed flesh as the red cloud carried him out the entryway and onto the beach. The turbulence left a pile of bones on the shore as it moved out to sea, the screams of the client still mingling with the infernal buzz of the mist until it dissipated.

She wandered out on the verandah after it, and upon observing the bones decided that it was as good a time as any for tea, being that time didn't really follow any conventional flow on the island.

"Bardock, collect that lot and put on the kettle, would you," she called back inside. "And be quick about it."

Getting no response, she sighed again, backtracking into the parlor. As she suspected, she found the slab unoccupied, her charge having slipped out the back door while she'd been busy.

She took her time navigating the myriad rooms and exiting the rear of the palace, knowing he couldn't get far even if he'd flown out beyond the island. Rumor had it the distance across the blood sea matched or exceeded that of Snake Way. He couldn't possibly make it to the mainland shore. Certainly none of the previous Oracles could have… but of course he was different.

The least of her worries, yet the best of the deal, were his looks. All of the others were Kanassans, just shy of hideous. More than easy on the eye, this Saiya-jin stirred feelings of attraction in her that quickly progressed unchecked into something much deeper than infatuation. This couldn't be anything but dangerous. The bond between Oracle and amplifying spirit was already immutable and fixed, but intended to be emotionally platonic at best. Perhaps the problems she encountered as of late in controlling and projecting his visions stemmed from complications caused by her feelings for him.

The thing that most worried her was the fact that his gifts were not natural. He'd obviously come by them by means other than birth. She hadn't got to the bottom of that yet but imagined some kind of predatory act was at the root of it all. Regardless, every time she amplified visions through another spirit, she ripped a little bit of their soul away, doubly so if the original gift wasn't inborn. She knew she'd be left with little more than a fleshy shell in half the duration all the others lasted. For all practical purposes, it would feel like several hundred years before he completely withered away, but she already felt much too strongly that wouldn't be enough. She wasn't entirely sure she wouldn't wither away herself after he'd gone. He didn't help matters any, what with his willful defiance forcing her to reign him in all the time.

His bodily strength was another matter altogether. He became somewhat physically weakened in fugue state but had still nearly overpowered her, a major tier demon, on more than one occasion. His stamina wasn't to be trifled with either; he rebounded from sessions more rapidly than any of the others had – when he wanted to. He'd figured out how to push her buttons, alright. Sometimes she actually feared he might not have shown her his actual physical capabilities as yet. He had his body in this realm ultimately only because she willed it, but he'd be of no use to her without it; a catch twenty-two he was well aware of and exploited accordingly. She wondered what exactly she'd done to anger En-ma so much that he'd decided to play this cruel joke on her.

Exiting the palace, she could make out Bardock's quickly receding form, a small speck just above the horizon. He couldn't be far out past the island's opposite shore, but she could tell he'd got farther than she'd anticipated, especially so soon after a tough reading. Thoughts of his toying with her by hiding his strength nagged at her again. She'd have to slow him down, and damn the consequences.

She quickened her own pace a little, forging a connection with the sea and directing it back through the link with her captive. Though a more difficult task without physical contact, the blood sea served as an extension of herself and would intercept him soon enough. She could detect its swell already, both mentally and visually. She felt it make contact after only a few more steps over the barren, chalky ground. Lost souls, unable to detach themselves from the shock of their passing between worlds made up the bloody miasma. It engulfed him swiftly and brutally. At her command, the spirits would leave his body intact, but his gifts made him especially sensitive to their torment. Before she reached him he'd die a thousand deaths several times over and become privy to a million futures that may yet to be. At her command the surge pushed him towards the shore. Stubbornly, through what could only be horrible anguish, he resisted but to no avail. He eventually got bogged down in the shallows. Sure that she'd have plenty of time to spare, the oni slowed to a lazy shuffle. If he wanted to cut what amounted to a century or two off his existence, let him. Tragic, but his arrogance wasn't to be rewarded, not in her domain.

He still floundered on his knees in one of the inland shallows on her arrival at the shore. He grasped at his own temples, his screams raw and hoarse, the bloody tide swirling up to his waist. Occasionally an arm materialized by one of the more vital souls would coalesce from the brine to grope and drag him completely under again. He'd emerge sputtering and straining against the pull, obviously a futile effort at best. If he was hiding any more strength, now wasn't the time she'd call his bluff. She waited at the blood's edge watching the struggle play out until his screams subsided to sobs before she sent the tide back out to sea. Finally she went to him and knelt, cradling his shaking form in her lap.

He clung to her in return, his reason far gone past the mortification of needing her support or shedding tears in her presence. She gently stroked his cheek, tracing the scar there and wondering if she'd ever find out how he'd got it. After a little while he calmed, perhaps regaining some of his sense but still taking breaths in gulps.

"Why do you compel me to this?" She leaned in close and whispered. "Even if you could leave this island, there is no breaking our connection." Taking a hold of a clump of his coarse hair she pulled slightly, forcing his black eyes, dilated to pinpoints, to meet her blue ones. "I'd always find you."

He gripped her harder, still not quite in his right mind. "My son…" he gasped, and then ground out something about vengeance that she couldn't quite decipher through his labored breathing.

"Oh, I see," she quipped, not liking that she hadn't got his full attention and irked by the fact that he'd let his personal affairs interfere in a reading. Never mind her own failure to imprint his visions to the client. It was just bad for business. "If it's your boys you're worried about, it looked like they were both about to die a horrible death in that little scene you conjured up. I'm sure I could arrange for them to visit. I fancy either one looked ripe for a good tumble if you ask me."

He struggled even harder to take in air, each breath broken by a low chuckle that became an insane peal of laughter. "What? With a hag like you?" He pushed away from her. "Even a pair of bottom of the barrel level Saiyans come back as zombies wouldn't give you the time of day."

That was a low blow. OK, she was pushing several hundred thousand years old, had blue skin, the incisors of a feral tiger and a pair of nubby horns grown out of her forehead, but the rest looked right good. Not one gray hair marred her thick mane of light brown hair, her figure was a near perfect hourglass and there still wasn't a wrinkle on her…well, maybe one or two… "Sod off!" She hauled back to slap him but he caught her wrist and held fast before she could follow through. "A miserable old git like you is one to talk…"

"Yeah," he growled, pushing her down onto the sand, "because either one of those _children_ wouldn't know any better what they were missing even before they were dead." He pinned both her hands above her head and lowered his to her neck, teasing her with his lips.

Clearly he was still somewhat off his head but she wasn't going to complain. She could've rolled right out from under him and walked away if she wanted to, he'd been weakened that much. If this was the way he chose to save face from getting a little beat down, she'd take it. She feigned a bit of a struggle as he pressed his weight on her, moving his lips and tongue up along her chin and finally meeting her lips. They exchanged hungry kisses and his grip on her wrists loosened so that he could entangle his fingers in her hair as he forced her legs apart with one knee.

She moved her hands down his bare back to pull at the torn fatigues he'd kept since his arrival. He rolled, letting her straddle him and then pulled the fatigues off himself, directing her hands to his swollen sex as he went about removing her robe and tunic. She stroked him insistently as he pulled her back down to him and explored her bare breasts with his mouth and hands. She shuddered as he finally drove into her, moving in long controlled thrusts meant to tease as much as anything else. She attempted to take control of their rhythm and he responded by turning his weight and putting her on her back beneath him again. She felt his tail snake around her thigh and she startled, shocked at the constricting strength of it urging her to throw her legs up around him.

In the periphery of her mind she felt the sea begin to rise up with her ardor, her rational sense warning of danger only to be ignored. Before long it lapped at their entwined bodies, a feedback of euphoria throwing them both over the edge. She threw back her head and nearly howled, arching up to him and raking at his back with her fingers as he exploded in a hot torrent inside her.

After a brief moment of lying tangled together in the remnants of the red surf he wordlessly rolled off of her and sprawled on his back staring at the empty whitewashed sky. After she regained her wits somewhat she put some effort into pushing the sea out a little farther lest they both go crazy. She pressed herself up against him, realizing that he'd passed out for real, this time truly spent.

She considered leaving him there but knew that would only give him a head start on her should he decide to make another go at finding the mainland. In the end she balled up their clothes in one hand and grabbed one of his ankles with the other and dragged him back across the island leaving a trail dug out of the sand and chalk, probably scraping him up pretty badly in the process. She could have carried him but felt the evidence left by her method might serve as some kind of deterrent, at least she hoped it would. When she got back to the palace she thought about tying him back down to the slab, but the last time she'd done that he just played obedient for long enough to get her interested in finding out what he was on about. The whole affair had ended in a kinky mess that she wasn't sure she had the stamina to repeat anytime soon – and he'd still somehow convinced her to let him out of the bonds before she thought it necessary.

She finally settled on putting him in her own bed. At least she'd know if he got up to something as soon as possible if she was nestled up with him in the eiderdown when he started moving about. It didn't look like he was going anywhere for a while in his state, but she'd underestimated him before.

After tossing and turning for a while she realized she was way too keyed up to sleep and remembered the bones the client had left behind. She decided to chance leaving her charge just long enough to retrieve them and go ahead and make the tea she'd forgone earlier. It would surely settle her nerves enough for her to get some rest.

As she was grinding the bones in a mortar and then as she waited on the dust to steep she realized something had to be reshuffling in the time stream with all the problems of late. Even considering the abnormality of her charge and his uncooperative nature, there was no reason for them to have failed readings as often as they had. The last three readings had been a bust of one sort or another. Something chronoreal had to be getting in a tussle, maybe even tearing. She decided that she couldn't really do anything about it so she began reading the steamy novel she put down earlier while she enjoyed her tea. She was weary soon enough and retired, enjoying the warm presence of her captive while she could.

*****

He lay flat on his back and contemplated the void that served as a sky, trying to piece some coherent thought through the tattoo of his heartbeat, perfectly synched with the slower persistent crashing of the waves. The infernal bloody tide and what flowed through his veins were one and the same now, providing a constant torment that only abated when he made physical contact with the demon beside him. Sometimes he thought he could snatch back some of what she had taken from him by coupling with her, sometimes he did it out of rebellion, sometimes he just needed to. It made the pain in his head subside, a little bit.

The sea had plenty of suffering primed just for him. He'd actually tried to come to grips with just how very personal a tie he shared with it, his contribution to it being so great. He never thought to put a number to the souls he'd thrown into oblivion – surely billions, countless really. Enough to whittle him away to null slowly and painfully for a very, very long time, he imagined.

He felt it draw away vaguely, pulling at his fatigued psyche. He pulled back, albeit weakly, trying to get a handle on just what the fuck she was doing to make it obey her like that. He slipped away into blackness thinking there had to be an angle…

Bardock opened his eyes and rolled over, tangling himself in the cushy comforter and simultaneously uncovering the demon as she dozed. Damn bed had to be all soft and full of pillows and blankets. What the hell was wrong with a firm, sturdy mattress and functional sleeping quarters? As far as he was concerned, the demon was a creature of unnecessary overkill when it came to sloth and avarice. He expected her to wake immediately and chastise him as the air hit her exposed body, but she didn't. He stayed completely still for a moment, surveying her naked form. That fucking hunger rose up in him again. He couldn't even tell if it was really against his will anymore. It took everything he had not to put his hands on her and resign himself to spending another significant duration in the too-comfortable bed.

He spent another moment getting his own unclothed body under control before carefully disengaging himself from the featherbed and all its accoutrements. He was still a little surprised she hadn't been disturbed, especially after he shuffled through her various possessions littering the room; books, clothes, a myriad of _things_ collected from her hapless clientele. He couldn't fathom why anyone would want so much stuff just for the sake of having it. He finally came across his battered pair of black leggings, slid them on quietly and crossed the room, excruciatingly slowly so as not to wake his captor, as he fought the unrelenting (surely unnatural?) urge to slip back into the bed instead of out the door.

He exited the room, greeted by reddish morning sunlight filtering in through the windows lining the balcony of sorts that separated the upstairs living quarters from the downstairs common areas. He experienced an odd sense of uneasiness for a split second… what the heck was he doing again? Oh, yeah, summer rental house. The ledger and borrowed scouter were in his hands; he'd recorded his report and he needed to return them.

The odd sense of confusion must be an after effect of the vertigo he'd experienced the night before while following the instructions in the ledger. It was an ordinary record of the rental agreement between himself and the landlord, unless read through the special scouter he'd received with it, whereupon entering a code he was able to read the instructions for his covert solo missions. He didn't know who the instructions came from, only that he was to follow them and record but not transmit the results, and sometimes what he thought was useless information about some of the planets he cleared, to an encrypted partition on the scouter.

Sometimes the volume of information he had to process made his head spin. He didn't think he, a conscripted soldier, was ever meant to know so much about scouter technology, let alone the petty stuff he had to notice off-world and then try to retain through clearing a planet. He couldn't understand what anyone would want with building specifications, historical records, even dietary trends from dead worlds. He did understand that he was the guinea pig in some sort of experiment, possibly endorsed by the King himself. The 'landlord' was an elite guard. Who the hell else would an elite guard report to besides the King? The payment, coordinates to Freiza's most desired planets and therefore the highest paying jobs, given to him long before official posting, was well worth the trauma and risk he took completing the solo missions.

Judging from the results so far, they needed someone tough enough to put the instructions into practice, yet expendable enough to go largely unnoticed should there be an accident or problem. He fit the bill perfectly. As far as his power level had increased, and as much as he was talked about among his peers and the indentured in the infirmaries and galleys, he was still just a low level nobody at the end of the day. The thought put him in a somewhat foul mood. The last thing he really wanted to do was deliver the ledger and scouter to the elite by hand, in an exclusive elite neighborhood on the outskirts of the Royal Palace where he'd surely be harassed, but that was the requirement.

He reached the top of the stairs in time to see the boy enter from the morning water errands; early, he noted by the amount and color of the daylight. The second sun hadn't risen yet. The boy was early for everything. Born with a power level on the cusp of upper class conscription, the boy's infant mission hadn't been an easy one, and here he was in this house at a mere eleven years of age, several seasons before he'd been expected back. As he watched his wild haired son, class yet to be designated, cross the main foyer and disappear into the kitchen, Bardock felt a surge of both pride and envy. To have the opportunity to _earn_ a class delineation rather than just have it dictated at birth was extremely rare. He decided to put the boy's mettle to the test, see how close to worthy he really was.

"Raditzu!" He called loud enough to be heard through the doorway and to impart urgency, but didn't move from where he stood. He wanted to make the boy come to him, and he did quickly enough, but neglecting to leave the chunk of meat he was carrying in the kitchen where it belonged.

"What is it, father," the boy said respectfully enough, yet between bites as he ascended the stairs. Bardock waited for him to get close enough that he could snatch the meat from him. He noted that the boy didn't flinch though the movement was swift and entirely unexpected.

"Show a little respect for your sire." He glowered at the boy, a practiced look that had caused more than one adult warrior to back down a little.

"Yes sir," Raditsu responded somberly. He kept direct eye contact, though. He didn't even blink.

"I have a job for you." He handed the boy the ledger and scouter. "Take these to the address on the front of the ledger." He looked him up and down pointedly and then cuffed him hard across the side of his face. "And clean up some before you go. You don't want to be wandering around near the palace grounds looking like some low life that doesn't belong there."

"But father," he still hadn't broken eye contact, didn't move to rub at the reddening welt on his cheek and didn't even hesitate questioning the command, "I'm supposed to be at the southern training grounds within the next few minutes. If I go all the way out near the palace first, I'll miss roll call."

"And you'll be reprimanded for that, probably harshly. Sometimes that is the way of things and can't be avoided." He put his hand on the boy's shoulder and squeezed with a reassuring firm grip. "In this case it will be best to accept what you are dealt without complaint or excuses." He tightened his grasp to mark the utter seriousness of his next words. "Tell no one where you've been. Don't make a scene while you're there."

He let go and turned sharply, heading back to his quarters. He entered and retrieved his own scouter and armor and contacted the landlord to let him know his son would be delivering and receiving the ledger for the duration of his on-world training. The landlord didn't like the idea so much but accepted it after Bardock let him know that it would look more suspicious to be running trivial errands himself when he had a trainee at his disposal.

Sure, Raditsu was bound to eventually get hassled by somebody for being in the wrong neighborhood, and eventually questions were going to be asked. If he was smart he'd be able to evade them, if he was as strong as his power level indicated, he'd be able to at least survive a fight with most anybody that decided to press the issue.

He realized he felt a little dizzy. The asteroid he'd carried out the instructions on had a very low oxygen level that must have compounded the failing results of the ki-manipulation. It was hard enough to control a chunk of power that intense to such subtle degrees when one could breathe properly, and then to have it trigger a partial transformation like it had… it still felt like all his guts were out of place and his brains were scrambled. He contemplated the meat he'd taken from the boy. Maybe eating something would help.

He took one bite and his insides rebelled. He doubled over, head spinning wildly now, and tried desperately to keep his stomach down. He succeeded in that regard but not in maintaining consciousness. His last thought was that it would be stupid to have to starve to death before he found out what his son made of himself.

***

Bardock opened his eyes and rolled over, tangling himself in the cushy comforter and simultaneously uncovering the demon as she dozed. Damn bed had to be all soft and full of pillows and blankets. What the hell was wrong with a firm, sturdy mattress and functional sleeping quarters? He fought the urges brought on by the sight of the oni's exposed body overlaid with a strong and disorienting sense of déjà vu. He went about finding his torn fatigues and wondered that the demon didn't wake from all the shuffling about he'd had to do. His head swam a little, but he fought through it. He had to get out of this room before he succumbed to the demon again; had to get the hell off the island altogether before he completely lost his mind. He slipped out the bedroom door without looking back.

He exited the room, greeted by reddish morning sunlight filtering in through the windows lining the balcony of sorts that separated the upstairs living quarters from the downstairs common areas…


	17. Chapter 17

Bardock contemplated the balcony for a moment. He looked back at the door he just emerged from and then down to the lower levels of the house when a blistering pain shot through his skull. He fought a sense of tumbling in space. He realized with a feeling of disbelief that the sunlight coming in from the windows was reeling across the floor, first somewhat dim and brooding, then intense, then dim again as though both suns traversed the sky for an entire day while he watched, certain that he'd only been standing there for a few minutes.

The pain subsided with the sudden stop of the light's march across the walls and floor. He steadied himself and turned back to the door. His room… he'd just exited his room, hadn't he? A sense of trepidation crawled over him inexplicably, making the hairs at the back of his neck stand on end. He did have a trained warrior's senses when it came to possible threats, but he couldn't remember ever having such a sickening sense of fear over anything, let alone nothing. Nothing… he thought he felt the hint of a whisper gently stroking his cheek that made him want to recoil yet captivated him at the same time. If he went back through that door, what would become of him? Would he step into some kind of abyss that would suck his very soul out only to remake it as though chewing it up and spitting it out…? The very notion was ridiculous. He didn't believe in the concept of a soul. This was his house on the home planet. The only thing behind that door was his staid quarters. He was about to turn and jerk the door open, thereby laying to rest whatever it was that caused him such unease when he heard someone enter the house.

He looked down to see two of his squad members enter. The agitation he'd felt was instantly forgotten and replaced with satisfaction. These were _his_ soldiers, rank be damned, fit and ready for some of the toughest assignments there were to be had. One could tell it in the way they carried themselves, even just entering a domicile; they were not to be trifled with. This had already rubbed off on Celipa, the younger of the pair. She had the same air of dominance as any of them, though female, inexperienced and not with the squad long. She stopped mid stride and confronted the much taller Toma to punctuate a disagreement in their conversation without pause, already secure with her status as equal.

"No, it's still not to your advantage to put yourself on the ground, even to knock the legs out from under an opponent. You only give them the opportunity to get leverage…"

"Ha! You assume they can recover from the impact of your entire body weight crunching their shins," he grinned, suddenly leaving behind the air of professionalism, "rather, _my_ body weight. Now I see why you would balk at using such a move. You haven't bulked up quite enough yet." He gestured toward the kitchen. "We can fix that quite easily."

"I could put on another four hundred pounds and I still wouldn't use that as an attack…"

"Hahaha! I think you should try to open with it, personally."

"You're trying awfully hard to get me to mess up tomorrow. Just because it's the first time I get to go a round with the boss doesn't mean I have to make a complete fool of myself. I'm wondering what's in it for you if I fall short?"

"I just think you still need practice, work out some less conventional technique, that's all. Maybe you should consider postponing?" He chuckled a little bit but it didn't cover up the faint redness that rose in his cheeks. "The Commander hits awfully hard, you know."

"I should hope so. I didn't join this squad because I was looking for a cakewalk. You might as well tell me who's keeping the pool and why you would be dumb enough to bet against me in the first place." She went on, oblivious to the overtone of serious concern from her teammate.

Had that nonsense started so early? It was bad enough he had to watch his son alternately rage and moon about over the new recruit in the month since she'd taken up quarters with the squad. He didn't think Toma had become distracted by her until much later, but he hadn't even been there for this exchange and there could have been…

He stopped himself mid thought. He hadn't been there – here. For a very short moment the interior of the house slipped away and he looked on from outer space as the entire planet was crumbling in a fiery meltdown, knowing he had failed utterly…

Then he was back inside the house, griping the balcony rail and trying to figure out how he could be somewhere he was not, because he knew the night before his first spar with Celipa he had gone to retrieve his eldest son from a drinking establishment in an upper class part of town where _he_ shouldn't have been…

He looked back towards the offending doorway that had caused him such discomfort moments ago. The intense feeling of having missed the mark on something extremely important washed over him again. He closed his eyes and saw what could have been a powerful explosion, something big, in the colors dancing on the back of his eyelids. The burning embers coalesced into the face of an infant, the spitting image of himself. "Kakarotto…" His eyes snapped open. Had he said the name aloud? If he had, the two downstairs hadn't noticed. They continued with their conversation heedless of his presence.

He heard the front door downstairs open and slam shut and then Raditzu limped into his view. Celipa and Toma's banter abruptly stopped and both looked at the youth, mouths agape at the unqualified damage he'd sustained. But for the unusually long hair, the boy was barely recognizable. Bardock knew for a fact it would have taken phenomenal effort for the boy to walk (perhaps crawl?) by himself to the house with a fractured back, and probably broken ribs and internal injuries. Bardock knew the extent of the wounds considering they were his own handiwork.

The boy glowered menacingly at the two onlookers uttering only a guttural snarl, daring one or both of them to do anything, _say_ anything about what they were looking at. Crap, Bardock thought briefly, the boy really could have been a contender for first class designation… maybe if I'd left well enough alone. No. The failure was Raditzu's. He would have been dead at this point if it had been a conventional fight, definitely would have been killed if either one of the two looking him over had disrespectfully intruded in their Commander's personal matters by taking on the boy's challenge. Raditzu stood there, doubled over and clutching his side, still daring the two of them with murder in his eyes…

"Kakarott, don't kid yourself," he said. He held the same hunched over stance, but most of the blood had vanished and he'd suddenly become much older. The house faded away revealing an open landscape with vast blue skies.

Bardock gasped involuntarily. 'The Blue Planet,' he thought unconsciously, immediately struggling with a vision of the world and trying to remember why it was important.

"Your brat is more than 'just a child'. His power level is higher than yours already." The grown up Raditzu grinned without mirth, only heartless, empty cruelty. "Pity he'll never learn to use it."

The blue skies faded quickly to the muted interior illuminated with Vegetasei's red dusky light. The warrior Raditzu shrank to a child's stature, blood pooling at his feet, but his expression was the same. Bardock knew then the boy would've made an insane attempt at fighting the warriors he faced, even in his condition and knowing the certain outcome, if only to try to take one of them, and it was no mystery which one, with him. Toma's interest in the new recruit may have escaped his notice, but not his son's.

Bardock looked away. He hadn't been in this house at this time, felt certain that he wasn't even here now. Maybe things hadn't even transpired like this. A rush of something that could've been the mocking laughter of a thousand voices rose in his consciousness. He threw the door to his quarters open and strode through without thinking…

…and found himself in the bar he'd gone to that night. He turned to look back the way he had come, half expecting to see the interior of the house over the threshold of the establishment's entryway. He saw only a city street, people enjoying the balmy air characteristic of a summer evening on Vegetasei. He heard laughter again, but this time it wasn't confined to his own head; it was real.

"Furiza? Destroy us? Why ever would he do that?"

He turned to the interior of the bar. The patrons weren't the first and second class crowd he remembered. In fact, most were peers of his, third class grunts. They continued to heckle him.

"You've lost your mind. We've always done a good job for Furiza, and he's always given us good work."

"Yeah. Hey, Bardock, maybe you've pushed yourself too far this time, bitten off a little more than you can chew, huh?... geez, you look awful. Maybe you'd better just sit down and have a drink…"

The sharp pain in his head had returned. He stumbled, leaning on the doorframe to get some balance as dizziness overtook him. But he _had_ to get them to listen…

He looked up and saw the upper class cantina he'd originally walked into. The laughter stopped and the pain subsided. The only thing out of place here was his son at a corner table with a good view of the entry, not of proper status and really too young to be pounding down ale the way he was.

He walked towards the boy's table; not really wanting to relive what he knew was coming, but unable to stop himself.

"What do you want? I already made your delivery." The boy disrespectfully made eye contact and held it despite his obvious intoxication.

"You really don't want to start this in here."

"Oh? Are you worried people will talk?"

"No. But you should be. Let's go."

"Nobody looked twice at me being in here, but now that you've arrived, everyone's taken notice. Your looks mark you as third class, maybe…"

He didn't let the boy finish, just hauled him out of his chair. He didn't bother looking around either. Sure, people were bound to be staring, in good part just because what Raditzu had said was true. He knew nobody was going to do anything, though. He was broadcasting a power level over 9000 to every scouter in the room. They may have been first class, but many of them didn't match his strength, the rest probably didn't want to get into tussle that was likely to destroy the bar. Nobody followed them after he pushed Raditzu ahead of him out the door, anyway.

When they got outside, the boy glared at him but had enough sense to start flying in the direction of the house. He didn't have enough willpower _or_ sense to make it all the way there without saying anything though. About half way he stopped in midair and turned, much as Celipa had done to Toma, and blurted an accusation.

"You did it because you're scared. You know I'm going to get first-class status. You'd eventually have to give me command of the squad."

He may have had formidable potential, but the boy was no equal, certainly no better, yet, and now he never would be. Bardock didn't really gratify him with stopping, just followed through his approach with a fist to the boy's face before turning himself.

"You dare!?" He was able to blindside Raditzu again from behind. He knew the boy might've been able to match his speed, but he was also drunk. He had him by the neck before he shook off the second punch. "You covet a position on my squad so you can challenge me, blatantly, and fail. Now you seek to repeat this process? Don't tell me you're stupid as well as weak."

Enraged, Raditzu struck out with his fists. Bardock let him wail away, but didn't loosen his hold.

"You aren't ready to serve on any squad, much less my own. You need no more explanation for my actions than that. If you're so sure I'm wrong, prove it now." He let go and Raditzu got a jab in on his cheek before disengaging. He felt the flesh split against his cheekbone, certain to leave a scar. He smirked as he let the boy come at him again from above and drive him from the sky to the ground below.

Bardock looked up as Raditzu raised his palms to fire the killing blast at him and hesitated, just for a fraction of a second, but same as with the girl, it was enough. Bardock was on him before he realized what was happening.

Every bone he broke, he did so deflecting the boy's attacks, showing that he had no intention of expending the effort to go on the offensive. Until the very last blow in the confrontation landed. His only offensive strike shattered his son's back, thereby putting a definitive end to the disagreement.

He held the boy down in the crater where the 'fight' started, only then bothering to get a hold of his tail and squeeze.

"The true warrior never hesitates to kill, not even his own father." He made sure he had his son's full attention and then let loose of his tail. "Mark this. It isn't hesitation. This is dishonor. You don't deserve to die in battle with me."

He could've let it go – let the boy get into whatever he was going to at the bar and sleep it off the next day. He'd done enough damage that without access to a regen chamber, and novices didn't have free access, the boy would fall irreparably behind with his training. Undesignated warriors were all given status by their sixteenth year, no later. Even with the power boost he'd get from eventually getting over his wounds, he'd never catch up by then to garner first class rank, or even second.

Bardock looked down at his son in disappointment and scorn. He'd made abrupt plans that night for a long string of away missions. He intended to collect his squad and make an immediate departure as there was nothing keeping him on-world now. Surely he hadn't lingered there this long. He didn't remember so much blood in the crater… or the rocks being so discolored, bleached through. Suddenly it was the adult Raditzu he was staring at, laying sprawled out in a blood cove on a white beach at the bottom of a chalky cliff. Before Bardock could get his bearings Raditzu's eyes blinked open and his hands shot out with massive twin streams of ki that caught Bardock in the gut and sent him backwards into the rocks.

He struggled to rise and realized the only thing he fought with was a tangle of blankets. His back hurt like hell, but only from superficial scrapes and cuts. He'd suffered no blows. He threw off the covers and grabbed his tattered clothes, now knowing exactly where to look for them in the cluttered bedroom.

Of course, the demon was on his heels immediately, demanding he stop, that it was no use bothering to go anywhere. He didn't even slow down, healing the abrasions on his borrowed body as he headed out the door without pause. Somehow he knew precisely where the sheltered cove surrounded by high cliffs was, though he'd never been there before and he was sure he'd navigated the whole of the island more than once in his attempts to find some avenue of escape.

The demon appeared to recognize the sudden sense of purpose in his self curative act and stopped trying to dissuade him through words or action. She just followed at a distance. He looked back at her wraithlike and naked form and read a mixture of curiosity and concern in her expression. All too soon, even without flying, he realized he'd reached his destination, a precipice beyond which the blood sea appeared to rage in disquiet, the churning waves only settling to gentle ripples in the bowl like cove he could observe by looking directly over the edge.

He lifted off the ground, intending to hover down to the thin strand of beach below, but the minute he moved over the edge, gravity, a stronger pull than existed on Vegetasei, seized him and he found himself falling, landing hard on his back on the white sand before he even realized he needed to right himself. He could see the demon, a tiny speck, looking over the edge far, far above him. Her body dissipated into a crimson mist that floated down gently and rebuilt itself on the ground next to him.

"That won't work here," she held out her hand to him as if to help him up. He rejected it, familiar with the inquiring look on her face. She only wanted an opportunity to pick his brains, read his vision if indeed that was what his dream had been. "Nor will any form of ki manipulation. The whole area acts as a damper," she said as she dropped her outstretched arm, recognizing his refusal. "Anything you do here has to be done by physical strength alone. It is the first test of the gateway."

"Gateway?" He again healed himself and stood easily. Ki might not work here, but the properties of this body still did. In fact, he felt the pull of the ocean even more acutely than before. But Raditzu had clearly, painfully, blasted him with ki in his vision. He looked around to be sure this was the same place he had seen.

"Yes." The demon smiled. "This place serves as the threshold to the world of the living. One way of course." The smile took on a sinister quality. "It hasn't been accessible for what must have been thousands of years to those who live. Someone is coming." She took a step towards him, her brash nudity all at once looking powerfully alluring and even innocent. He fought the urge to pull her into an embrace. "You know who it is, don't you?" she purred.

He backed away from her. "No. I didn't see it."

"Oh?" She frowned; obviously well aware he was lying. "Do you know what the last test of the gateway is?" He shook his head slowly in the negative, as all at once the quiet lapping sound of the waves behind him filled his head, blocking his sense of reason, clouding his resolve to resist the demon.

She bared her pointed incisors. "I am." He struggled to remove himself from her reach, determined not to let her rend the information she sought from his already tortured psyche. "The gateway has opened twice, and both times those I faced met with failure, allowing me to consume them. Absorption of a living soul adds immeasurable longevity to my, to _our,_ existence here…" Her scowl deepened "…and after all the trouble you've put me through as of late, I find myself very, very hungry."

She continued her slow advance and he retreated again without looking. He felt the wet stickiness under his heel too late to move before the sea made its physical link to his captor. The red tide swirled around his ankle and the demon's face lit up in recognition as the vision of his son lying on that very beach flashed up in his mind and projected to her.

"Heh. So that's what all that bullocks earlier was about." She looked genuinely amused at his swift defeat, suddenly turning and heading back toward the cliffs. She looked back at him over her shoulder. "Well come on then," she coaxed, indicating the shear rocks. All traces of her anger vanished, her come-hither smile innocent and sweet despite the sharpened teeth. "You're going to have to make the climb, but it can't hurt things any. Your boy is going to have to when he gets here and you may as well get some training in. He didn't look happy to see you."

He watched her dematerialize and float upwards and then turned his attention to the crimson brine at his feet, cursing it. He imagined his frustration as though it were a physical force and directed it into the surf. He watched in amazement and with a tiny, belated sense of triumph as it momentarily appeared to surge away from him. It only moved a few centimeters, and there was the chance he'd just imagined it, but the waves no longer reached him as they broke. He took that small victory with him as he set to scaling the cliffs.


	18. Real Saiyans Don't Sparkle

Ransom Due - Chapter 18 - Real Saiyans Don't Sparkle

*********

A/N: I can't believe I'm still plugging away at this story, which I'm beginning to think is a disaster, but trying to figure out where to go next with it keeps my mind out of its tendency for anxiety. I had to rewrite this chapter several times, sorry if it's not very polished. I still appreciate any feedback.

Warning: Violence, gore, language, some sexually explicit content (I knew I'd eventually need an M rating) as of this chapter, I'm deciding to change the description of this story to angst. Any better suggestions?

Disclaimer: I don't own Dragonball, DBZ or any of these characters. Some peripheral characters are mine, but all of them seem to die before very long. I am gaining no profit from this story and I'm only writing it for entertainment value.

*******

The cold fluctuated between throbbing and stabbing pain and a complete numbness that felt like it radiated from the core of Raditzu's bones. His pod had exited the rift, but the craft continued to have technical difficulties, not the least among them the stasis field. Without the intermittent failure of stasis, he could have completed his journey blissfully unaware of the absence of climate control. He drifted in and out of full consciousness, wondering, at his more coherent moments, whether his disordered state of mind stemmed from the partial operation of the stasis systems or simple hypothermia.

His physical condition was no less distressing. Because of the partial operation of the stasis field, he remained for the most part unable to move, stuck in a waking sleep, a situation all too similar to his experience with the Andolonusian flu. Enough so that his mind kept drifting back to his experience on that planet, to memories he'd avoided revisiting.

Captain Daax had finally ordered him to intervene in the situation after reports of heavy casualties with the initial waves of low-level fodder had continued inexplicably throughout the mission. The entire operation should have gone relatively smoothly despite reports of advanced weapons technology on the planet. Orders had been to clear the world and plunder the remains of some lucrative gem mining. The place was classified as just barely sale-able and not worth much in and of itself. Daax had also ordered his slave's squad to participate in the first wave of the purge. He'd found it irksome that his thoughts had strayed to questioning if the few sporadic, garbled reports would reveal the condition of his property, beyond irritating when he realized during his deployment that finding her, dead or alive, had caused some distress in the back of his mind. The expendables were to be treated as such. His orders were to strip everything living from the world, the low-level squads having already been listed as casualties.

On arrival he'd simply taken a scorched earth approach to the task at hand. One last party of low-levels would be dropped after he finished, assigned to pick through the rubble and collect an initial offering of the gems to Frieza, who would most likely install a mining crew to scour the rest from beneath the surface of the doomed rock.

Not long after breaking atmosphere he exited the scaled down drop-pod he used for disembarking Missionary and unleashed an initial wave of destruction at whatever he saw standing. The sorry looking outposts and villages full of rag-tag scavengers he'd found on the lichen-encrusted, frozen earth surprised him as he expected something a little more sophisticated would have been required to stave off the numbers they'd sent in the first deployment. He thought that the Captain should send him on more of these assignments at the outset, despite the tedium, just to save time. He'd decided to simply travel in one direction, following a bearing set on his scouter and basically killing and destroying everything in his path until he arrived back where he'd started, whereupon he'd pick another bearing and repeat the process. He'd cleared larger worlds in less that a standard month with that method, much faster and less involved than the mess the low levels had made of this one.

His mental griping was interrupted by some movement he saw below as he flew. Whatever it was had such a low power level, his scouter wasn't picking it up. He touched down and scanned the area visually, removing the scouter for a better view. He noted some fatigue then, but had written it off as a result of the biting cold and thin air of the atmosphere. After a cursory investigation of the area, he found a series of tunnels under the rocky outcroppings and evidence of some kind of guerrilla operation that looked to have been going on long before the arrival of anyone associated with Frieza's empire. Not that it mattered. He lifted off the ground and started pummeling the entire area with ki blasts, churning up the rocks and whatever they concealed for a depth and radius of several hundred kilometers. He was becoming exasperated at the realization that the tunnels were probably extensive and he'd have to go back over territory he thought he'd already finished with and dig a little deeper when he attracted attention.

He would've seen them coming if he hadn't neglected to put his scouter back on. As it was, he found himself suddenly flanked by two small, purple skinned characters with bulbous heads. They circled him and began an irritating banter between themselves, speaking about him as if he weren't present.

"Oh, look! No wonder the boss was so interested in recruiting this one."

"Yes, yes, but surely not everything with a furry tail is…"

"Oh, stop, Raizen, Doesn't matter. He'll be so disappointed. Don't you see the readings?" They both paused here to consult their scouters.

"Oh, so sad. They _are_ dipping ever so slightly."

"No immunity." The one called Raizen shook his head and frowned in mock sympathy in response to this observation, then suddenly grinned widely as his tiny mouth would allow.

"No. But look on the bright side. Subdual and retrieval is going to be a lot of fun!"

"Quite, brother! Amusement and excitement for the both of us, as surely as we've earned it!"

During this exchange, Raditzu put his scouter back on to get a reading on the two creatures and the reason for the mission's failure became clear. The little purple men were each reading at a level fluctuating at just over 3000. He made an effort not to outwardly show the mix of apprehension and giddiness he felt at the prospect of fighting them as he readied himself in a defensive stance. Amusement and excitement, indeed.

As for making sense of their words or even what they were doing on the planet, he only noted that which was blatantly obvious. They weren't connected to Frieza's empire in any way except that they appeared to have acquired some pieces of regulation armor and integrated it into the patchwork of what they wore. Before he could make much more in the way of observation, they attacked, coming at him from both sides at once, inundating him with low powered punches and kicks that made clear their intent to toy with him.

He blocked most of the blows but a few hit their mark, stinging but not really hurting him, just enough to drive him to exasperation. He opened up on them with ki blasts, one in either direction intended for each of them. One of the little men dodged the assault and the other blocked and then sent the energy back at him in an erratic arc which he strafed in midair. They re-converged on him and continued to play the part of two circling flies, their jabs and kicks punctuated with laughter and taunts.

His continued inability to even get some breathing room to ready an attack much less land one had his temper boiling up. In the back of his mind he knew his fury would cause him to loose any sense of stratagem when and if they ever decided to escalate this into a real battle. He kicked out at them and realized that the observation they'd made about his power level previously was proving true. There was a mounting heaviness in his limbs and his breath was coming in shallow gasps. His anger doubled at the realization that they planned to wear him down and dispatch him without ever having really fought him.

He exploded with the reserve power he'd been hiding on ship, seeing no point in continuing his assailants' entertainment. He knew he'd only reached a level just on the heels of 1500, not really enough to best either one of the purple men by themselves, but at least it would make the fight more worthwhile if not something worthy of dying in.

The two were taken aback briefly at this show of power and the fight became more of a real contest for a time, but it wasn't long before his energy fell away again as though he were a vessel with a small hole allowing it to leak away just a little at a time until he actually noticed the loss, and by then it was too late to compensate.

He dropped to the ground in the hope that saving some of the power expended by hovering would be of use to him, but it wasn't. Though he was able to block and even return their initial blows after landing, the mounting slowness of his limbs soon got the best of him and they had him down. He readied himself for their final strike, but even this was denied him.

"Shall we put him closer to the outpost now, brother?" asked the first of them.

"Yes, oh absolutely, yes. He'll be so much heavier after," the second quipped in reply.

He struggled to rise and put in one more effort at the fight but his mind began to feel as dampened as his strength. As he picked his head off the ground everything seemed to spin away from him in a careening whirlwind. Before he knew what was happening, he was spinning. Through his now clouded vision it looked as though the two little men had merged into one which had him by the leg and was twirling, gaining speed until letting go and sending him flying end over end through the air. He barely had time to comprehend the landscape speeding by below him before he plummeted back to the ground.

The impact was incredibly painful but jarred his senses back into something manageable, at least enough for him to take stock of his surroundings and to make some sense of what he was seeing.

He'd landed in a hilly area much like everything else he'd seen on the planet so far except for the hulking remains of a rotted out tree visible on the horizon. The ground was riddled with gaping crevasses that suddenly came alive with the emergence of people from the dark fissures. They made a quick survey of him from a distance in military fashion and when they got closer he recognized them. Low-levels from Missionary, maybe a hundred or less, tarried nervously at the edges of the openings of the ground while a few of the braver in their ranks approached him.

By this point he was unable to move and the pain had given way to a distinct chill and dull ache that felt as though it was overwhelming him from the inside out. He half heard the arguments that passed between the soldiers as to whether to leave his corpse to rot or for some reason collect it and hide it, whether to blast him now with what weaponry they had or wait for the flu to take its course. They all at least agreed on the position that he was soon to be dead, and whatever they did, they had to make it quick because those responsible for putting him here were on their way to see where he landed.

"Wait!" He recognized the voice and the figure that pushed through the small throng that had gathered at the openings in the ground. "If you kill him now, the infection will leave the body before it's any good to us."

Another of them consulted a scouter. "Power level's dropping but still broadcasting over 750 like a damn beacon. Bastards'll be right on top of us even if we do shoot him."

"E.T.A. seven minutes" another reported.

"Get ready to fire a volley into the far side of the valley," he recognized the voice of the commander from Squad 57, "maybe that will throw their readings off course and buy us some time."

The next thing he knew his slave was standing over him with the business end of a large blast rifle pointed in his face.

"If you even think you want to live, drop your ki all the way like I showed you and play dead. Right now." She reached up and threw the weapon into live mode. The whine of it charging up competed with the incessant audible warnings from the scouters registering his combatants' rapid approach.

In his confused state he hesitated to respond. She looked back over her shoulder impatiently then jabbed at him roughly with the gun. "Either probably die with us or let the Raisin brothers have at your corpse, but choose. Now."

He couldn't think of anything more dishonorable than choosing to die in the company of the scum of the Trade rather than at the hands of two more than worthy opponents, but for reasons he couldn't fathom, perhaps an overriding survival instinct that saw a shred of hope for actual continued existence, he chose the former. He saw his heart in his mind's eye as a flame and imagined his will snuffing it suddenly.

"Fire!" barked the Commander of Squad 57 as Raditzu felt all his energy drain away suddenly as though the slow leak of ki had become a rush through countless holes in a sieve. The sound of blast energy echoing from the far side of the valley ushered him into blackness.

He drifted in and out of consciousness after that, but things remained muddled, blurry and overlaid with paralysis and either searing pain or a dull numbness. The darkness never lifted, making sense of his surroundings and even the passage of time harder to grasp. He gathered that some of the soldiers had dragged him down into one of the caverns. He made out the sound of a rush of water somewhere and then realized that he was hearing the pumping of his own blood in his ears, or he thought he was… then his mind decided that what he was hearing was a mixture of both or neither before his senses fell away into another spate of nothingness that he later awoke from as his body was racked with uncontrollable chills.

Eventually he was able to grasp scant constants from the jumble of waking and half waking periods. One, that the soldiers around him were in an unmitigated state of fear. Despite the loss of his faculties he could smell it coming off them. Second, that his slave remained with him, the only one of the group that displayed a calm surety about her. He awoke on more than one occasion with the certainty that she was within arm's reach of him, appraising him silently. Occasionally light would reflect from somewhere, a lantern or torch perhaps, confirming his suspicions as more often than not in those moments he'd find himself meeting her green, steely gaze. No fear or uncertainty read there, only the steady unabated watchfulness laced with hate. _I will destroy you. _He knew the look well, having leveled it at more than one unfortunate and seen it pass over the faces of many in his years with the Trade.

Third, his rage at the situation he'd found himself in never ceased below the surface of the prison that his own body had become. The utter humiliation of being allowed to live, or perhaps die as he'd gathered from bits of conversation out of the darkness, at the whim of these worthless insects was nearly unbearable. And, his continued existence had become a bone of contention among the soldiers. He couldn't be sure, but it seemed the question of who would have control of his remains should he not survive was at the core of the dispute. He witnessed an argument between his slave and several others who had decided that it wasn't worth waiting for him to become a corpse and wanted to desert the larger group and take their chances with their share of the cut, specifically, he thought he heard this right, one of his limbs.

They were close enough that again, the sense of fear ebbing off the soldiers was apparent to him. They were obviously putting up a front in their demands. He thought that were he in the slave's position, he would have simply killed them immediately, but she was willing to string them along for a bit.

"Look, we've agreed to leave you with the hair and the tail. Even if the virus doesn't take its course with the rest, you'll make a mint on the black market with those." The first soldier sounded sure of himself, but the second was practically sniveling.

"Yeah, we're taking a gamble by settling for some of the flesh, it may never turn…"

"Don't be so negative, the Saiyan has been nearly a corpse for almost a week now, the cells will transform any day," he heard the first soldier say, taking a couple of steps further into what he'd come to understand was a little alcove in the cavern that they'd dumped his body into. "Whatever you were planning on doing with it is a bust. You'll never be able to drag the whole thing out of here without help, and most of us agree…"

"And where do you plan on going with your share once I give it to you?" The voice of his slave was even and level, not a hint of hesitation in the words.

"We'll make a run on the hangar. This plan of hiding right under the noses of those pirates is wearing thin, we've been here long enough they're sure to stumble on us…"

He heard murmurs of agreement from somewhere farther back in the cavern.

"So you plan to _walk_ out of here onto the surface right under their noses instead? Your bravery is inspiring… in its insanity." He could practically hear the smug grin that must have been on her face. "It's crazy enough that I might just agree to it."

He heard the sound of a blade being unsheathed, and then the voice of the second soldier. "We even thought we'd let you do the honors, considering what hell this monster has probably put you through. We thought you might enjoy severing an arm…"

"Heh," she laughed without mirth, "an arm? Surely you don't think I'd just give away such a large chunk, and you seem to want me to enjoy this. Perhaps something smaller, more meaningful, like you say, considering the ordeal I've endured." He saw a glint of light off the blade as her shadowed form moved over him, then down towards his waist.

An uncontrollable wave of terror and rage washed over him as he realized that she intended to either emasculate him or remove his tail and he couldn't even move to avoid it let alone stop it. Then he saw the light flash off the blade again as she threw it, followed by a dull thunk and then a thud of one of the soldiers hitting the ground. This was immediately followed by a burst of blaster fire and the sound of another body dropping, then fearful exclamations from whatever ranks were assembled in the dark beyond them.

He heard the crunch of her boots as she moved to the bodies, a rustle as she searched them, and then saw feeble illumination as she stood, lighting a cigarette she'd retrieved from the dead soldiers. She brandished the blaster in the other hand.

"Stupid fucks," she muttered around the cigarette as she reached to reset the blaster. "Anyone else want their cut now?" she called into the darkness. She was met with scared, mumbled replies to the negative and the sound of shuffling feet as the group disassembled.

She took a pull off the cigarette and the ember reflected in her green eyes. His dulled senses found him mystified at the sight of the amber light briefly playing through her blonde hair. The look on her face told him she would kill the rest of them without hesitation, and he suddenly admired her ruthlessness. His sight had become accustomed to the dark enough to watch her silhouette move back over to the dead soldiers. She put her foot on the neck of the soldier she'd knifed and withdrew the blade from his skull, then bent, pushing the bodies a few feet from the alcove, whereupon he thought they just disappeared. Then he heard a distant splash and realized she'd shoved them over the side of some kind of cliff.

He was thinking that he'd been right about hearing water before when she returned, squeezing herself into the alcove next to him. She didn't say anything, but twirled the knife in her hand and looked right in his face with that steady gaze, letting him know that there was no guarantee that she wouldn't fall back on her previous plans with the blade. There was no doubt in his mind that she'd do it too. His thoughts skipped erratically from the fact that water streaming below might afford some route of egress to contemplation of the slave and the unavoidable admission to himself that he found her very attractive. Anger fueled thoughts that if she wanted his manhood, he'd surely give it to her with the promise of terrorizing her a thousand fold in return for what she'd dared to threaten him with.

All of a sudden she stilled the knife and cocked her head slightly to the side as if listening for something. He watched her swiftly jam the point of the blade into the roof above them and pry with it for a moment. Bits of something, (rotted wood perhaps?, it couldn't have been stone) dropped down on him as she buried the blade deeper and then removed it, a wriggling prize impaled there. The grub was shimmery white and at least six inches long and an inch thick. It stretched disgustingly as she withdrew it from the hole she'd made. She did all this without looking away from him or even acknowledging the thing, beyond the slight grimace she pulled as she bit the head off and spat it outside the alcove, as if this had become rote practice. She ate in silence as the rest of the contingent must have retreated elsewhere in the caves and he found himself drifting into unconsciousness again.

His sense of time waxed and waned with consciousness and during what felt like long stretches without the ability to do anything but lie there uselessly he found himself entertaining detailed fantasies of exactly what he'd do with the slave in repercussion for her actions. His rational side told him she'd never live through most of the depravities he'd thought up, but that didn't stop his mind from churning through some of the most brutal and morally corrupt scenarios that even a Saiya-jin woman of elite strength might not have weathered without serious injury.

Once, he awoke, this time burning horribly from fever, to feel her gentile touch on his forehead and make out that she'd transformed back to her weaker state, he felt a mental pang of something that it took him a moment to even identify as akin to remorse or guilt at having those thoughts in the first place. This sent him into a psychological tailspin as he was completely unfamiliar with the feeling and the self accusation of undeniable weakness came hard and fast on its heels. What the hell was happening to him anyway? If he'd felt anything about some of the more intimate scenarios he'd busied his mind with it should have been disgust. His anguish redoubled when she offered him water and he slapped the canteen away listlessly, the thought passing through his mind that he wished she'd just let him die. To actually wish to die in such a dishonorable way, to even think it, was nearly sacrilege against everything he knew. He was so entrenched in self loathing when she returned to try again with the water that he didn't notice that she was smiling, didn't realize what had just happened or what it meant until she gave voice to it.

"You… you can move again!" Her voice sounded excited, happy at this revelation. She should have been terrified, like the others. "I think that means you're getting better." She wiped at his forehead again, this time with a damp cloth, and held it up to the meager light given off by a small lantern. "Look," the cloth sparkled slightly in myriad colors that could not be simply from moisture, "your body's rejecting whatever it is that's supposed to turn you into an opal."

She went on, but he was only half paying attention as he put his effort into trying to move his arm again.

"…There's not really any mining. Some people get sick, and some don't. The ones that don't, profit off the remains. The ones that were stronger before they got sick are worth more because they run the guns better…"

He tried to make find some logic in what she was saying through the frustration of not being able to move his arm again. She'd given him the water again and as soon as the cool wetness of it touched his dry lips he found himself gulping it down hungrily. At least he could swallow.

"…I guess the idea is that maybe you could get us past those pirates, but I don't know. Those guys are really strong and there's two of them. Besides, the decoys we put out won't last forever and I suppose they're looking for you."

He coughed up some of the water and she took the canteen away.

"You think maybe you could eat something?" she went on. "After watching how you and your brother eat, I was thinking you must be starving after not having anything for so long."

She got up and disappeared from his view but continued talking. "The grubs are nasty, but they're a little better if you cook 'em, but you gotta be careful because, you know, those pirates, maybe they might smell something cooking." He realized she was as scared as the others and was covering it with useless blather. She returned with a small torch and the knife and he felt momentary apprehension.

"But, um, I guess if you wanted meat…" She shrugged nervously and turned the light on the cavern beyond them, revealing a substantial pile of bodies. "I think we got in an argument and I did something bad." At this admission the terror became apparent, but then she suddenly brightened. "Anyway, I can't really do much in the way of cooking but there's some seasoning packets left from the rations. I know it's really gross… you know, eating them…well, maybe not to you but there's probably not enough grubs and even if there were I couldn't find them all, and the meat will go bad soon even though it's pretty chilly down here."

Good girl, he thought, ditching those chumps and choosing to save the bodies to fend off starvation. He wondered what the hell was wrong with him again. He tentatively wet his lips and choked out two words.

"Shut. Up."

"Uh, OK. I guess I'll go see what I can find in the grub department first, gotta be quiet to listen for them anyway, and then…"

He growled at her and she finally stopped her chatter and quietly went about listening at the cave walls and ceiling, digging in with the blade sporadically.

She managed to come back with four of the grubs and sliced the heads off with the blade one by one before feeling them to him wordlessly. Strangely, such a paltry meal did fill him, which turned out to be a good thing because when she went back to scavenge the corpses she balked.

"Having second thoughts about the meat?" A warm feeling spread through his body and he found speaking somewhat easier. He tried pulling himself up into a sitting position and succeeded.

"I can't believe I killed him," she replied in a low whisper.

"I should've known you wouldn't really have the stomach for such things, though it's no different from anything you ever saw in the galley." He leaned his back against the cavern wall. The rock felt incredibly cold against his bare skin. She must have removed his armor at some point.

"But those were just dismembered pieces of... I don't know. Nestar was my friend. I don't think I ever actually killed my friends before."

"Friend? Hah! Only an ingrate like you would mistake the efforts of a commanding officer to better his own lot as friendship. I can hardly fathom that you lasted this long."

"He... he... when I found myself here at first I didn't know what to do. The others wanted to get rid of me. They tried to... to," she stammered as she searched for the words to describe what he understood as the obvious course of action such a pack of dogs would take finding themselves with a rare female among them, and then abandoned the effort. "Well, he stopped them. Told them he knew Daax would be sending you since we were failing the mission."

"Like I said, he was covering his own ass. He knew he would bear the responsibility should I arrive and be angered if you were damaged or dead. He only should have known better that I considered you dead already." He shifted around so that he could see her better in the gloom. She still held the knife, but he could see that her hand trembled over the corpse. "In any case, what you have provided seems to be sufficient for now." A feeling of listlessness was coming over him again. Suddenly he could barely keep his eyes open. "Save your efforts for removing the corpses should they putrefy, or for sustaining yourself if you have need..." He trailed off and fell into another period of deep sleep full of fever dreams and torment, unaware that he'd been unable to finish his thought until he woke sometime later.

Things continued along these lines for some time, although he was unable to gauge the length of it. Dreams and hallucinations of using the slave to sate what had become a nearly painful sexual need blended with his waking experiences, so that he was unable to tell if he had in fact acted on those urges, save for her mostly uninjured state and that she still lived. This was compounded by the tendency of their bodies to find each other for the need of warmth when they slept. The two often wound up pressed together after drifting off. In her transformed state, she would push him away and regard him with disdain upon waking, however, in her weakened form she tended to remain clinging to him and most of the time he lacked the strength or even ability to put some space between them. He became accustomed to and even comforted by her fluttering pulse and the feel of her cool, soft skin against his, and though the remnants of his rational mind told him that desire for what amounted to little more than an animal was disgraceful, he found that his cravings did not wane even as he gradually felt his strength and wits returning to him.

Once, he awoke to frantic whispered pleas of the slave in her weaker state as she shook him trying to get some response. Stricken, she was barely able to string words together to explain to him that she could hear voices in the corridors just beyond their position.

"The pirates," she breathed, "I think they're still looking for you. We have to... can you move?"

He tested his limbs. "Yes, but not fast enough to outrun them, not enough to fight them for certain." Though he had mobility, he still felt sluggish and weak. Perhaps resignation to dying was in order, though he wondered if his death was what the ridiculous little pair actually sought. She looked around in a panic, and then back at him with some hope that he had a solution to their predicament. He sighed quietly. "What a waste for a warrior to expire in such a fashion and in such company."

She put her hand on his and then took two slow, deep breaths as though to steady herself. "Wait. There's a ledge underneath where the rocks drop off to the river. I found it when I was pushing some of the bodies off. Maybe if we climb down there they won't see..." She scrambled to collect their armor, scouters, her blaster and the few things around that would indicate they'd been camping in the cavern and then made her way to the edge of the chasm. He heard her toss the stuff over and it landing only a short distance below before she came back over to him.

"Come on!" she hissed through clenched teeth. When she found him unresponsive, she actually tried pulling him up, to little effect.

"What for? To run away and hide? I may be about finished but I'm no coward. Let them come. Save yourself if you think it'll matter in the end." He turned away from her.

"You... you're giving up?" she nearly sobbed. "You can't. You said it yourself, you're a warrior. Live to fight another day. Please!" She pulled at him again, but he pushed her off in the direction of the ledge, harder than he thought he was able. She went tumbling backward and over, and suddenly his heart lurched at the realization that he'd thrown her to her demise unintentionally.

He didn't hear her land, either in the water far below or on anything solid. The voices and footsteps from the adjoining corridor, however, had become close enough for him to make out a few words over the sound of the rushing stream below and identify them as belonging to the two who had attacked him on arrival to the planet. Then he heard a scrabbling of loose rock and a whimper. Curiosity prompted him to go over to the edge and look.

The slave was hanging there by one precarious handhold. The ledge she'd described was actually some distance back up under the ground he stood on and she struggled, either trying to swing her legs over to it or pull herself up, though she was obviously capable of neither. Once he'd actually gotten up and stretched his neglected muscles, it was clear to him that he had more strength than he'd thought. The possibility of regaining enough power to actually fight the pirates on proper terms sometime in the near future prompted him to take the option she'd offered.

She looked up at him, eyes full of pleading and fear. Feeling more like himself than he had in a long time, he paused to position his heel next to her grasping fingers and made as though he was going put the rest of his foot and his weight on them. The look of absolute terror she gave him at this buoyed his spirits slightly as he put his weight on the opposite leg to vault over and around the lip of the cliff, grabbing her around the waist and pulling her with him as he went.

"Thank you! Thank you! Thank you!" she said under her breath. He pulled her up against him and forced her head into the crook of his neck to stifle the outpouring of gratitude, wishing she'd remember why they'd crawled into the small space to begin with. He concentrated on keeping his ki down to near nothing, hoping the pirates weren't using their scouters. Her heart was pounding so fiercely he wondered that they wouldn't hear it.

Luckily, it sounded as though they were too busy with their conversation which indicated that finding him or his remains was only secondary to finding something else, though he couldn't discern what.

"Be patient, Rakasai. It's the last thing we have to acquire before we can leave this dump. It couldn't have fallen too far from the tree."

"Yeah, but it's like looking for a needle in a haystack, if it's even here anywhere. I was kinda' hoping we'd find that Saiyan. Might've been at least something interesting to show for all this even if we didn't get what we came for."

"You don't even know that it was a Saiyan."

"Looked like one."

"And you've only ever seen _one_, so you don't know for sure. Besides, Saiyans aren't immune to the virus. Remember? That's why we got sent on this job to begin with."

"Just proves my point. That guy definitely had the virus."

"Yeah, but he was definitely was no prince, either. Isn't their prince one of the only ones left?"

"There's supposed to be a couple more, working for Freiza."

"Well, doesn't matter now anyway. Freiza's not getting this world or anything from it. Judging from the blaster burns all over the place, those goons got skittish. At least we get the extra spoils from all the ones that got the virus and turned."

"Still woulda' been nice to find that body. Whatever that guy was, he was pretty strong. Woulda' made some nice gems for us to pocket. Was the most fun we had on this boring trip, anyway. Too bad."

They rustled around in the cavern for a bit, and then he heard their footsteps directly above.

"What about that river down there? It could have been swept downstream."

"True. Why don't you go down there and check the low road then, and I'll continue along this way."

"Split up? But we never split up."

"Might go faster that way though, and the scouters have shown nothing left on this rock with a power level over 30."

"Quite. We meet at the base then to ship off the jewels? Two days?"

"Fine. Why not. Good hunting brother."

He watched anxiously and held his breath as one of them hovered past the opening of the crevice and downward. For a moment it looked like the little puss ball was going to come back and check the walls of the chasm, it did slow its descent and poke around a few places, but finally it reached the bottom and wandered off following the flow of the stream.

He waited in silence with the slave clutched to him for the pair to move off. All the while his mind turned over what he'd heard. As much as he wanted to speculate on their limited knowledge of his race, those thoughts were overshadowed by the time line they'd indicated. If he could recover from the sickness in two days he could attack them at their outpost and divest them of their booty. He could only assume he'd be greatly rewarded for delivering the last of the gems into Freiza's hands since there were no mines to be exploited. But he was already feeling fatigue again and any sort of training would be impossible without alerting the pirates on their scouters. The best he could hope for was to find a way to their base and face them with whatever power he'd have at that time. It might mean certain death, but better to die in a fight than cowering in a cavern. The pirates probably had a means of communicating off world if they weren't the cause of all the radio interference in the first place. He could use the slave to contact Missionary and let them know the truth of matters on this planet while the pirates were distracted fighting him. He supposed it was as good a plan as any for a final stand.

His thoughts were interrupted by the slave as she squirmed in his grip and he eased his hold on her. She gasped, either from holding her breath or suffocating against him. His own head was swimming by then from the cramped quarters. She took another breath and started to say something, but sneezed instead.

She immediately started cursing and thrashing finding his arms around her. He held fast, the fact that he was able a good sign that he'd be well sooner than later.

"Calm yourself, lest the sound of your ranting brings those pirates back this way."

"Really?" She stopped struggling and he let her loose. "They were here? Then how come we're still here?" She tried to stand up and hit her head on the low ceiling. "Ow! Oh, I see you found the hidey hole. And feeling better too? That's a good thing. We need to get moving if we're going to meet our deadline."

"So you knew they were shipping off the gems in two days?"

"Shit. I must have been out of it for a while if that's true. Let's go then."

She easily hopped up to grab the ledge above and pulled herself over the outcrop to the larger cavern in sharp contrast to the troubles her weaker form had with the same obstacle. He remembered that he still had the vial that would trigger the transformations stashed in his armor as he handed their things up to her. He figured her plans must be of a similar bent to his, at least getting to the base and stealing the spoils. He knew it would be much easier to get her to do things his way in her weaker transformation so he was glad he'd have the vial at hand.

They put their armor and scouters on and started off. She set a quick pace for traveling on foot. When he warned that one of the pirates had just taken the same passage she led them through, she scoffed. "Hmmm. I was just going to tell you not to go barreling through here like a bull in a china shop in case they were still around, but it looks like you're getting a little winded already. Want to rest?"

"No," he retorted, but the truth was that his stamina flagged even though their speed should have been more than easy for him to keep up with even powered down to almost nothing. He pushed onward for the next several hours despite the feverish feeling creeping upon him and he finally collapsed. She went on for some distance ahead of him before coming back and chiding him.

"You could've just said you needed to stop."

"I don't," he grumbled and got back up but found himself swaying. He leaned against the wall for a few more paces, then had to concede that he could go no further.

"Ugh! If you could just set your stupid pride aside for a bit, we might actually be able to make it out of here in one piece," she griped. "If you need rest, take it. You'll need everything you can muster to fight those guys tomorrow."

"Two days, not one. I'll be fine by then."

"They plan on two days. We only have one. Take a powder."

"And why do we only have one?"

"You'll see."

"Don't play at keeping secrets from me," he growled. "Trust that you'll be sorry for it."

"No secret. You should already know. Take a minute to sift through all the rocks in that thick skull of yours," she dared to punctuate this by poking him in the forehead with her finger, "you might figure it out." She flashed him a half cocked grin. "Maybe."

"Test me and I'll force the information from you."

"And ruin the surprise? Besides you're in no condition to..."

He reached into his armor and took out the vial. He didn't get a chance to pop the lid before she had a hold of his wrist and pressed her thumb hard on the pressure point between his thumb and index finger. He was shocked at how fast she moved, much faster than he remembered she could, never mind that the maneuver actually worked. Sharp pain shot through his hand and he lost his grip on the vial. It clattered to the ground and she kicked it hard down the tunnel in the direction they'd come from.

"Hey! The novelty of your little ace in the hole wore itself out a long time ago," she crowed.

She'd neglected to let go of his wrist in her boasting. Anger and the desire he'd been feeling since they'd been stuck in the caverns bubbled up in him unhindered, giving him a sudden though small burst of vitality which he used to turn her arm and throw her to the ground. He rolled on top of her and pinned her, his weight if not his strength keeping her there. All sense of restraint left him. He could no longer stem the tide of his needs, the dizzying heat of the fever fueling them beyond his control or care for consequence or dignity.

"If it's an ace in the hole you're worried about, I can easily provide," he snarled, moving his hands to encircle her waist as he pressed his hips against hers.

Her eyes widened in surprise, as if this were the last thing she expected of him. Her hands went up to his chest to push him away, but her lower body rose up to meet his almost eagerly. He reached up and pulled her armor off over her head, leaving her arms entangled in it as he removed his own. By then her hands were back at his chest. They felt like firebrands against his already burning flesh, trailing downwards. He pulled at her bodysuit, exposing her breasts an upper body, feeling her skin break out in chill bumps, her hardened nipples raking his skin as he maneuvered to remove the rest of their clothes.

She made an attempt to shimmy out from under him, but he pressed her shoulders back down to the ground and his mouth found her neck, where he proceeded to nip and lick at the place where her pulse raced. They struggled with each other wordlessly, save for her grunts of dissent which gradually turned to soft sighs of pleasure as he concentrated the attention of his lips down to her chest, the sweet-salty taste of her nearly driving him to madness.

It became clear that she was very skilled in the business of lovemaking and in his weakened condition she managed to take some control of the situation before he really knew what was happening. Oh, the things he wanted to do had he been at full power, he thought. As it was, she would slowly draw him to near exploding and slow or stop their pace to find another angle or position before starting the process all over again. Finally he felt her passage tighten and the flood of her own release, all the while having denied him the same.

And then pain. Excruciating, mind numbing pain shot through his entire body.

In the throes of his lust he'd forgotten to protect his tail in any manner and she'd easily managed to trap it in her grasp. She squeezed it so hard both her arms were shaking.

"Bastard!" she hissed, rolling away from him. She still held his tail and in disengaging herself from him she gained more leverage and squeezed even harder. She kicked his exposed torso for good measure.

All traces of desire had drained away quickly, but the anger remained. "You'll regret..." he started to threaten, but she cut him off.

"Oh, I already do. Greatly," she snapped, throwing his tail back at him as though it were a venomous snake.

Under normal circumstances he would have been up and upon her to deal out retribution, but the sickness and exertion had taken its toll. She was already fully dressed and running down the tunnel before he could pursue.

He decided to go back and look for the vial but never found it for all the small fissures and rotted tree roots crisscrossing the floor. He finally gave up with intent to catch up with her after some sleep. He was halfway into slumber when he thought he heard the sound of sobbing a short distance ahead and considered that she might have transformed and he could go after her to take the advantage while it presented itself, but the timbre of the sound was too low. Odd, he never knew the stronger transformation to have shed a tear, but he tried to take some comfort in her misery as unconsciousness overtook him.

When he woke he felt well rested and had no problem digging several grubs out of the rotted tendrils of roots snaking through the walls. After eating, he immediately felt a surge of energy and after checking the timekeeping indicator on his scouter, he saw that he'd been out for nearly twelve standard hours. He sprinted up the corridor, hoping to catch up to the slave or the pirate. As far as he was concerned, either would suffice as a pressure release for the rage swelling within him. It wasn't long before his scouter came to life warning of a large power and he heard the reverberations of what might have been blaster fire. He rounded a turn in the passage and saw the slave careening towards him at a breakneck clip, shouldering a weapon that was far larger than any standard issue firearm, with the diminutive pirate right on her heels.

She turned and fired on the little alien. He was shocked to see that the blast actually knocked her pursuer of course for a moment, which she took to dive past the obstruction he presented.

"Your ball, boss. Let fly! Let fly!" she screamed as she slid past him. He threw all caution to the wind and powered up to full.

As ki aura and heat engulfed him, he felt the remnants of the fever burn off with it as though sloughing off dead skin. The pirate backpedaled slightly at the sight of the massive outpouring of energy, its scouter and the slave's behind him squealing in near protest.

"Holy... 3300! How?" The slave exclaimed, then yelped fearfully as the entire cavern shook in the wake of the energy pouring from him.

The pirate, surprised as they all were at the more than twofold increase in his base power, hesitated just long enough for him to lunge and plant a blow directly in its face and draw first blood. It recovered quickly and came at him with fists flying. The two of them locked, evenly matched, into close combat in the limited space the tunnel afforded for a short time before the sounds of their blows alternately connecting and being blocked were overridden by a wave of blasts from the slave's weapon. All of a sudden, the roof of the cavern opened up in a rain of falling rocks and a pale, greenish light filtered down around them.

A familiar, heady feeling overtook him and he lost his concentration on the battle, allowing the pirate to land a kick to his midsection, sending him backward a few paces.

"Look, damn you! Look!" he heard the slave say through panicked breaths, practically at his ear.

And then he did look up to see the full face of the planet's moon, sickly yellow-green and bloated, directly above the opening she'd created in the roof. He barely had time to curse himself for forgetting, or rather discounting the moon since he'd never planned on being planet side for as long as he'd remained, before the transformation overtook him.

He felt his insides in a tumult, and power - raw, unfettered power surge through him like a dam breaking. The next thing he knew his vantage point of the scene had changed to high above the wrecked tunnel, fully swathed in moonlight and the red haze of rage. The tiny form of the slave climbing out of the rubble and running off across the broken ground barely registered as the pirate foolishly continued trying to attack him. The only thing running through his mind was the need to smash the annoyance, rip it to shreds, destroy, destroy, destroy. He had the thing in his grasp before long, its struggles useless as he smothered the head in one hand and squashed the remainder with the other. He let out an earth shattering roar as he tore it in two with hardly a thought, the delightful sound of rending sinew and bones crunching reminding him that he was very hungry. He was slurping the entrails out of the lower half of the corpse when the second pirate arrived on the scene.

"Brother! Noooooooooo!" It bellowed upon seeing its riven counterpart. It flew at him flinging ki blasts at his face and torso in rapid succession. It continued raving as it came, the words barely intelligible to him, its assault little more than a stinging tickle. He only saw another opportunity for decimation, more flesh to devour.

The second pirate came in close several times to attack him, buzzing about his head like an errant mosquito. He swatted at it, still clutching the pieces of its ruined brother. He finally discarded the remnants of the first, growling in frustration for having his meal interrupted, and went about trying to trap the thing in his hands. Seeing the futility in its assault, it finally backed off, pausing to charge an ungainly amount of ki. He had it in his fist before it finished, the bright light of the ki it brandished nearly blinding him. He turned his head to the side, expecting it to discharge the energy in his face, but the blast never came. Instead, it directed the wave upward at the moon, which shattered into a thousand fractured chunks and glowing motes on impact.

His gut somersaulted as he diminished in size, his braying cry of dissatisfaction reverberating across the landscape. Somewhat disoriented from the sudden termination of his mighty Oozaru form, the pirate connected a few punches and then blasted him with another wave of ki. He shook it off quickly and rejoined the fight, delivering in kind what had just been dealt him. He again found that his recent increase in power put him on near level ground with the pirate, and his excitement and pleasure in the battle only increased as it wore on. When he saw that the tide had turned in his favor due to the pirate's unchecked fury at the loss of its brother and reliance on attacks meant to be executed in tandem with its compliment, he was somewhat miffed. Still, he let the encounter go on longer than really necessary just to prolong the thrill of the contest. Only when intermittent burning hunks of the crumbled moon began streaking down around them was he reminded that it might be best to remove himself from the planet post haste.

He put a halt to the conflict by delivering a kick that sent the pirate skyrocketing into the air uncontrollably He ascended ahead of it to catch it in the gut with his fist. It was then easy to flip the bulbous figure over and descend at velocity which allowed him to break the thing's back over his knee upon landing. He wedged the little alien into a headlock as it tried to crawl away from him.

"Now you know exactly what a Saiyan looks like," he declared in triumph.

It struggled and blubbered, clearly bereft. "Rakasai," it wailed. "What you did to him... unconscionable... you sick, twisted fuck," it spat, still uselessly trying to grapple with him.

"Yes," he backhanded it hard and laughed. "That is a rather apt description of my kind. Perhaps I'll let you live to tell about it if you direct me to your base."

"Why should I care one way or the other? I'm nothing without my brother. I'll be dispatched by my commander anyway for this failure..."

He used his free arm to ensconce it's head and began to twist. "There's a difference between a slow torturous death and an easy one, no? I promise you the latter if you tell me."

"Fine," it huffed, deflated. "To The southeast. At the tree stump."

Of course. The direction the slave had run off in. He began to put slow, even pressure on the pirate's neck.

"Quickly, then. As you promised," it choked, eyes beginning to bulge in its sockets.

"Hmmm. Another characteristic of the Saiya-Jin is that we tend to break promises when it suits us. I really would like to know where you've encountered another like me and some kind of prompt is in order." He pulled back with one arm and putting all his strength behind it, drove his fist into the soft flesh below the pirate's ribcage. Feeling it puncture both armor and skin, he opened his hand and turned it within the mass of tissue.

"That," the pirate coughed, blood dribbling copiously from its open mouth, "I c-c-can never tell you. T-t-take all night if you like."

He did spend some time digging around in the pirate's vitals, but never got anything more out of it than a few gurgling cries of pain before it expired.

It took very little effort for him to reach the base and hangar, his flight speed having doubled along with his power. Stray fragments of the moon sporadically rained down in his path, but the majority of it had formed a streak of pallid scraps in the darkened sky. They floated like spoiled curds, bound in their orbit. By the time he set down on the ground, he could feel a constant but weak reverberation through the soles of his feet. As he navigated his way through the buildings, which had been set directly into the massive rotting stump and fallen trunk, occasional waves of larger tremors rumbled through the floor as though the planet was readjusting to the shift in gravitational pull caused by the diminishing of its satellite.

He found the hangar empty, save for one mid-sized freighter. Wrenching open the locked hatch with little trouble, he entered the ship and headed for the bridge. Catching sight of his reflection in one of the portholes, he saw his visage as that of a true monster, bathed in gore from just below his nose to his waist and all the way up both arms, his copious mass of hair matted with it. The sight satisfied him greatly, a testament to a job well done.

The slave was on the bridge fussing with the controls which appeared to be giving her some trouble as they were far from the configuration of anything standard to the Trade. Every time the ship's interior creaked with the quaking of the planet's flux she would start, despite being in her stronger form. He entered quietly and watched for a moment before interrupting her.

"Going somewhere in a hurry?" he asked in a smooth tone.

It looked like she was going to jump out of her skin at the sound of his voice before she even turned to see him, proof enough that she hadn't planned on his joining her. When she did face him, his appearance elicited a shallow gasp, but she recovered her composure quickly.

"Just trying to get all the diagnostics and prep done before you got here, that's all," she shrugged, smiling nervously. "I thought..."

"Locking the outside hatch is part of the diagnostics, then?" he asked, a hint of ire creeping into his voice. "Maybe the fact that you never told me the location of this hangar was part of prepping the ship for flight?"

The craft rocked with another tremor, nearly knocking her of her feet. A look of panic crossed her features momentarily as she backed up against the console to steady herself. "Oh, that. A little oversight, I guess. I got a little distracted after," her eyes shifted to the side, "well, you know..." The tremor subsided and she put on an air of indifference, obviously feigned. "Soooo, anyway, you got any ideas of where we can go to fence some of this stuff? The cargo hold's full of those opals. More than enough to divvy out a good share of profit for each of us."

He went to the console and nudged her aside dispassionately. "Missionary," he replied flatly. "We leave any sort of 'fencing' up to Freiza or whomever he assigns to the task." He scanned the controls and recognized the layout enough to start the liftoff sequence and enter basic navigational instructions.

"What?! And back to slavery?" she retorted, her voice rising an octave.

"For you, yes." he said evenly, his concentration on guiding the ship out of the open hangar bay doors.

"For you, too. Don't think I haven't seen how you have to run around at the beck and call of that freak of a captain," she said indignantly, all transgressions momentarily forgotten. "You mean we did all this and get a chance to walk away scot-free, and you're not even going to try and take it?"

"'All this' is just what comes with the job." Finished with setting the autopilot, he turned on her. "And you haven't the knowledge to be questioning my station on that ship. As for yours, contrary to what you might have been thinking during your tenure on this planet, it remains and always has been the same." He advanced, trapping her between himself and the console. "To remind you of that," he paused, meeting her petulant stare, "perhaps we need to address your infractions one at a time."

"Infractions?!" she spat, refusing to back down an inch. "I didn't do anything that..."

"Let's start with your intent to strand me on the planet." He stepped back and unfurled his tail, then lashed at her with it. The first strike sent her flying across the bridge and into the opposite wall even though he'd made an effort to put very little strength behind it. In retrospect, he couldn't believe that he hadn't just killed her at this point, but a strange calm had settled over him, and somehow he found that he didn't really want her dead, despite all she'd taken from him.

She pulled herself up from the floor, groaning and wiping at her nose with her forearm. It came away bloody, but this didn't dissuade him.

"Daring to crush my tail," he continued, striking again, this time putting less into it. A sharp cracking sounded when it made contact, but she was able to hold her ground and actually tried seizing it with her hands, either out of defiance or simply to fend him off. He laughed. "I see I've not made myself clear yet." He wagged the tip of it in her face and she made another grab at it, even though it was obvious that she would only gain purchase of empty air. Giving up after several tries, she skittered away from him, and he followed, strapping her over and over.

His list was long, and they'd made at least three circuits around the periphery of the bridge, the whole thing having become an amusing game to him. Angry red welts rose on her exposed skin, but he reasoned that he couldn't be doing too much real damage as she still had her armor on. She never gave voice to deny his accusations, never even cried out in pain, but continued to shoot daggers at him with her eyes throughout the episode, until finally she sneezed in a spray of bloody spittle, leaving her in her weaker state.

He whipped her three more times, his tail whistling through the air, but she made no attempt to retreat or defend herself, instead kneeling at his feet in complete obeisance.

"Raditzu-sama, please stop," she begged softly.

He laughed. "So, it's Raditzu-_sama_ now, is it?" He had to admit that in her weaker form she had a knack for stroking his ego like no other. He decided that in itself was enough for him to keep her around for at least a little while longer.


	19. Wish I Had

disclaimer: Dragonball and its associated characters are not my intellectual property. I only borrow them he for my own entertainment and not profit.

A/N: I think this will be the last of the flashbacks and will move on after this. I still haven't settled on how things will turn out upon arrival, I only know it's not going to be pretty.

Ransom Due

Chapter - 19. Wish I Had a Drink and a Mike Finn for Him (or Cave Gambit Afterglow)

It took several days for Raditzu to rendezvous with Missionary. He'd had an idea of what heading to set in the navigation systems on the old freighter as he usually had the immediate purge roster memorized, but he'd been unsure of how long Daax would have waited before declaring the mission a failure and moving on. Being sent in a drop pod meant that his return would have been expected before Missionary left the planet's orbit which by protocol dictated a standard month or less. The date stamp on his scouter had indicated that he'd spent nearly two months on the surface, and he'd had to push the old bird in the hopes of catching up to the larger ship.

The trip passed uneventfully, in no small part due to the fact that he'd unceremoniously dumped the slave in the cargo hold and left it there. Aside from the time or two he cracked the access hatch to check on it and toss in some scant rations, he'd decided that perhaps he was better off if he just steered clear of the thing until finding himself in some state of normalcy. Despite the fact that it remained in its weaker state and probably wouldn't pose any sort of a problem he couldn't handle, the odd feeling of attraction that had begun in the caverns on Andolonusia had never left him and in truth intensified somewhat after having some time to think over the trials he'd endured there. He knew he would at least have to have something that made enough sense to put in a report upon boarding Missionary, and most of what transpired had no place in formal documentation. Nor would he ever want to commit such things to any kind of record as he reasoned they were best forgotten altogether.

When he finally made radio contact with Missionary, he was surprised that the medical officer was the one to answer his hail. She dryly responded that the ship was low on staff, making her the most qualified to run communications when he queried.

"Well," he responded tersely, "get permission to return to the medical bay and ready for my arrival. We will be in need of quarantine procedures."

"We? How many are with you? And why?..."

"Tch. My slave somehow managed to survive what appears to have been a festering blight of pathogen on that world, the rest perished."

"Amazing. We had no such information in the rosters about anything infectious there. This must be a completely unknown and undocumented pathogen then? And you're saying the two of you have a natural immunity?" He could hear the overtone of boredom in her voice change to expectancy at his mention of festering disease. Medical staff, he thought, exasperated.

"Just have it taken care of by the time we dock," he snipped and turned off the communicator.

They remained in the medical bay for a lot longer than he thought necessary after they arrived on ship. The technician insisted that a battery of tests be run concerning the infection, and he really didn't like being subjected to such scrutiny, doubly so being that he'd decided to continue to mask the majority of power he'd gained on planet. The technician's eagerness to analyze whatever evidence was left of the virus eventually turned to frustration as test after test revealed very little about the virus except that it could not survive or replicate if the host left the environment of the planet. She grumbled something about not being equipped with the proper resources to reverse engineer the virus and having to send the information to techs stationed on-world.

Worse, the slave had transformed again and took the opportunity to point out that they could have bypassed quarantine and tried to infect the whole ship.

"Too bad it wouldn't have worked," she quipped as the technician looked her over, "but it could've been some real fun. I bet that ugly captain would be worth a fortune if he turned, and hijacking a big ship like this…"

"Probably wouldn't have happened anyway," the technician broke in. "There's enough variance in the population on this ship that such a selective infection wouldn't spread far before being contained." She turned to Raditzu, "Which is why I find it hard to believe all of the others sent to the planet died from it."

He bristled "The Captain will have my report. Such details are none of your concern."

"You ought to be worried about all these contusions," she said, indicating evidence of the thrashing he'd given the slave and quickly changing the subject. "I imagine this one will be in considerable pain for the next few days. Carrying out regular duties will be difficult."

"Really?" he asked in feigned concern, smirking callously at his captive. "How unfortunate."

"I'm sure it's nothing I can't handle," the slave grumbled and smirked back at him.

The med tech watched them silently snipe at each other for a moment before continuing. "Well, I doubt duties will be regular for either of you in the near future. Even though you didn't come back completely empty handed, the Captain is not exactly pleased with the outcome of your mission. Add to this his edginess over the upcoming tournament, and I expect to see you in regen often in the near future."

"Then perhaps it is you who should worry about a swell in your workload," he remarked.

"If you find that your charge has trouble keeping up, have it returned here. There might be something I could do to help with that," she paused and added warily, "but it wouldn't fall under normal procedure."

He raised an eyebrow. "Oh?"

"Painkillers, contraband. I only have a very small amount, but I would be willing to be divested of it should the need arise." She swallowed nervously, appearing to choose her next words carefully. "I understand that you are in somewhat delicate circumstances, sir. You may require the efficiency and obedience the side effects could provide. The only hitch is I have no control specimen for appropriate dosage, so death is a possibility as well."

"I cannot see that I would have need to test such methods, especially in light of the sub par effectiveness of your last experiment. If you are finished?" He rose from the examination table and collected the slave, heading immediately to the Captain's conference room for debriefing.

Daax was waiting for him.

"Sub Commander, I welcome your return," he said benevolently as Raditzu entered the chamber. However, he did not rise from his chair, remaining shadowed in the expansiveness of it. "We thought we had lost you for a while there." His puckered lips twisted into a contrived grin and he leaned forward perching his plump chin atop his steepled, nubby fingers. "I await your formal report with anticipation, but for now, I only require clarification on one matter." He unclasped his hands, indicating the slave, which had thankfully remained quiet, though standing, in his audience.

"Kneel!" he commanded. The slave made a malcontent face, but obeyed the command, settling to the floor a few paces behind Raditzu, who went down on one knee as well. It was only then that the Captain stood, as if to punctuate his authority. "Why is it that you return with your property intact, when your orders were to dispatch the entirety of failures remaining on world?"

Raditzu didn't get to answer before the Captain followed up his question with a heavy blow to his head, sending him reeling. His skull rattled as Daax stood, placing a foot on his neck and forcing his face to the floor.

"My interrogations," he sputtered, barely in control of keeping his power level dampened, "I haven't finished…"

Daax laid extra pressure to his neck, and he wanted nothing more than to spring up and throw the entirety of his power in the Captain's face, but he knew it would buy him but small satisfaction before he'd be overpowered, subdued and probably killed. "Are my orders somehow subordinate to your personal matters?" the Captain asked, his tone still deceptively civil.

"No," Raditzu struggled not to choke on the words as the Captain's considerable weight threatened to close off his windpipe entirely. "But, my mission and the associated interrogations are to be carried out by Freiza Sama's edict," he ground out the last, trailing off into something of a whisper, "anything personal not withstanding."

Before his eyes rolled back unbidden as breathing became completely impossible, he thought he caught a glimpse of an impish grin on Daxx's lips. Nothing unusual about that as the Captain had always enjoyed such sadistic indulgences whenever the opportunity presented itself, which he reflected wryly, was often at his expense. However, if he wasn't mistaken, he thought the look was directed at the slave, and he knew for sure if he knew anything about her in her stronger form that obedience on her part was likely feigned. She echoed the grin behind the surreptitiously draped fringe of blonde hair that concealed her only slightly bowed face.

He barely had time to think the repercussions of such a thing before Daax lifted his foot. "True enough," the Captain quipped, only to haul back and kick the side of the Sub Commander's head as he struggled to lift it. Raditzu felt something snap and tasted the metallic tang of blood as the follow through sent him flying. He landed on his back and rolled over, managing to get up on his hands and knees despite his better judgment and the incessant ringing between his ears telling him to just stay down.

"Still, you shouldn't get too attached." Daax detoured back around his chair and paused at a small table beside it, retrieving a beverage from a conveniently placed decanter. "It's distracting," he meandered back over, sipping at his drink. "And with you on the roster for the tournament," he kicked hard, landing Raditzu on his back again, then drove home the rest of his statements by stomping down, all the while making a show of not spilling a drop of his drink.

"You don't..." (ribs) "...need..." (gut) "...any..." (knee) "...unnecessary..." (shin), he paused for a moment, glancing back at the slave and licking his lips before surveying the Saiyan at his feet. Raditzu had made some effort to dodge the first couple of blows but finding it mostly useless in the face of the Captain's much greater speed and strength, he laid still and fixed Daax with a caustic glare, determined to take his knocks with some modicum of dignity. He managed until the very last.

"...Distractions!" (groin). Though he'd been able to twist away so that the blow didn't fall on it's intended target, he still wasn't fast enough to be missed entirely. He knew he wouldn't be walking anywhere at speed before spending time in regen, in any case. Again he stifled the instinct to fight back. The Captain's power level was pushing 8,000 on a bad day and he'd learned the hard way in the past that Daax didn't take kindly to sparring in his conference room. He rolled onto his side and curled up a little, hoping to convince Daax that he'd hit the mark and reminding himself that taking such a beating was only going to increase his power in the end, yet he wasn't willing to take that particular damage if he didn't have to. He still couldn't resist the urge to throw a little back at the Captain.

"How could I not be distracted looking at your ugly face every day?" he spat, struggling not to groan and disappointed at his inability to come up with a jab any harsher.

"Hahaha... Yeah," Daax took a noisy sip of his drink and headed back to his chair. "That's what she said." He plopped back down in his seat unceremoniously, gesturing towards the slave.

"What?" Raditzu managed to push himself up on his elbows at this, and found himself glaring at the slave, who actually looked a little shaken up at the turn things had taken.

"Oooooh. Did I hit a nerve?" Daax laughed again. "You insult me. To think that I would have interest in such a waif, beyond regular duties. Though, you do realize I can have it sequestered and simply remove you from the equation if I choose to. And I will if I see even a little drop in your performance. In fact, you can leave it here. Have it clean up the mess you've made of my floor. You're dismissed for the moment."

With that he drained his glass and unceremoniously exited the room, leaving Raditzu to wonder that a shard of his own fibula had poked through his leg without notice during the Captain's little superiority dance. The resulting flow of blood, also unheeded in his rush of anger, had indeed created quite a mess.

"Well," he barked at the slave, who remained uncharacteristically reticent in her stronger form, "you heard the man." He picked himself up with no more regard to her than that, vowing to forget Andonolusia and everything associated with it beyond the unexpected rise in his power level and filing the expected report. Likewise, the slave. He would only deal with it for necessary interrogations. The damn thing could remain in isolation beyond that for all he cared. The Captain didn't need to sequester it. The prepared meals that had come with her were enticing but certainly not necessary. Further, he could tell from Daax's reaction to her return to Missionary the experimental use of her services in the regular rank and file were over with.

In his own near frozen isolation in the damaged space pod, his mind had nothing else to occupy itself but the rehashing of all this, even though he knew all had been said and done and there was nothing for it but to stoke his anger and frustration. He acutely remembered dragging himself to regen, foolishly trying to internally reason his way out of forgoing all those delicious meals. After all the slave was his property and he had a right to enjoy its domestic services if he chose to. He reminded himself that the only time in the twelve years of his very first mission when he had experienced weakness and potential failure was as a result of his introduction to prepared foods. Even as little more than an infant he'd managed to keep his orders in the face of such temptations.

Was this the method Kakarott intended as sabotage? It was hard to tell from the information he had managed to glean from his interrogations. He found that there were necessarily large gaps and incongruities in the information he could get from the salve due to the memory loss associated with her transformations. The most discouraging of these being that she could tell him no more about why she was sent beyond the rendering of her domestic services. He wondered that Freiza hadn't ordered him decommissioned for the lack of information he was able to report on in such a lengthy period. As time wore on, the possibility hung heavier over everything he did like a pall. He couldn't bear even the thought of coming to his end on the floor of that conference room, which was exactly what was going to happen if Lord Freiza declared this odd side mission involving his brother a failure... After the tournament, of course. The Captain had made himself clear.

As it turned out, he barely managed to gather sufficient information because Daax kept him busy in the interval between the Andolonusian mission and the tournament. It was as if the Captain needed to prove that his usefulness had indeed run its course. Under the pretense of the ship being short staffed, he was sent from one tedious world to another, jobs normally reserved for squads of low levels. He could have made extremely quick work of most of them, had there not been orders to preserve infrastructure and the like necessitating that he root out the inhabitants before dispatching them. In between missions, Daax had him on a grueling sparring schedule to "fatten him up," as he put it, for the coming tournament, each session of which pushed the limits of his ability to contain his power to what would be considered a reasonable level. All of which landed him in regen. He disdainfully reflected that he had built up a horrendous level of debt for this. No sooner would he be paid for clearing a world that he would have to spend the credits on regen.

He in turn kept the slave busy writing and filing the necessary reports, the first of which being the Andolonusia mission, which she handled succinctly, omitting mention of pirates and everything but the barest necessities when it came to describing the aftermath of the flu. He found that these reports, including his scornful addition of the preliminary report regarding her own planet, were more than sufficient so he only had to look over them and perhaps add an annotation or two, whether she prepared them in either transformation. Although, those written while in her stronger form were slightly more colorful in their descriptions.

He stripped her of all other duties and had her confined to quarters, but as weeks stretched into months without respite from the viscous cycle, the consumption of general rations interspersed with what he scavenged planet side became nearly intolerable. When he'd finished with the last world in a succession of four conveniently orbiting the same sun, he convinced himself that one decent meal couldn't hurt. He'd kept the distribution of rations for the slave to a minimum. Perhaps he could turn the tables and gain more information using the same methods he suspected were being used against him.

He'd arrived back on ship and detoured to the slave's quarters. Finding it asleep in it's weaker form strengthened his resolve that the breach in his plan to keep it secluded from the rest of the ship would bear fruit. Not seeing the need to spend time rousing it, as per usual he simply stepped in and grabbed a fistful of hair and started dragging.

He didn't have it through the portal before it began screeching and struggling. He had to remember how easily it could be hurt fatally if he wasn't careful. By then it had woken up enough to realize what was happening and followed him docilely of its own accord.

He led it to the galley, empty at the odd hour, and left it to seat himself in the mess assuming his intentions were clear. There was a large glass partition between the two rooms instead of a wall, so he could keep a close eye on her as she worked. Not long after aromas began wafting from the galley that made his mouth water.

She emerged with both arms loaded with heaping trays, set them on the table before him, and then wordlessly made several return trips, ending with a selection of libations. He chose an ale on the basis of quantity and not quality considering the magnitude of what she'd brought him. True to form, she'd prepared a feast as though he'd just returned from conquering a planet full of elite adversaries and not simply having swept away vermin. She acted as if the preceding months of deliberate neglect had never transpired.

She stood at a respectful distance awaiting further instruction as he set to devouring the food and finally broke the silence.

"You are looking well, sir." He paused to glance at her and she quickly cast her eyes away and shifted a little nervously. He returned his attention to the food and she continued. "The doctor said you might be susceptible to regen fatigue as much as you used the chamber lately, but I couldn't imagine someone as hardy and hale as you would need to worry about something like that. I even told her so and pointed out that she had just commented herself on the remarkable strength Saiyajin have.

He looked up again and motioned for her to sit, scantily filling a tray and roughly sliding it across to her along with a small portion of the ale. She hesitated warily only for a moment before setting to it ravenously. She was obviously in the mood to tell him what he wanted to hear already, but he was more interested in truth and decided to test her immediately.

"What were you doing talking to the medical staff?" he asked around a mouth full. "I gave succinct orders regarding you remaining in your quarters."

She desisted again, rightly expecting that he would snatch the food away should she not answer to his satisfaction. "I suppose I had decided to fake being sick, being stuck in that room for so long. It was one of those times when I just found myself there, in medical I mean, and couldn't really remember how it happened..." She glanced up, weighing his reaction. "But I didn't feel sick once I realized where I was, so I asked if it was ok to just go back to my room, but she said that the Captain really wanted information about your condition included in the reports and it would be easier if I just put it in there myself and could she just bring me the data instead of trying to put it in there after the fact..."

She'd clearly gotten ahead of herself in her apprehension and resorted to piling on as many words as possible, something he'd found incredibly irritating in the past but perhaps worthy of using towards his ends in this case.

"...and really I must warn you, if I may, I think that I am prone to getting into trouble during those times I can't remember, especially if boredom is involved." She checked his reaction again, took a couple more bites seeing that she was allowed, before adding, "n-not that I actually remember anything. I'm only just guessing."

"Am I to assume that Kakarott subjected you to similar boredom often, then?"

"He traded me to the old master for training pretty much right away. The turtle guy was OK, but he was always trying to cop a feel and stuff like that. I mean -always-. So I had to be on my toes every minute. I don't think I had a chance to be bored." She had slowed down eating by now, her initial hunger sated. The spill of words had also slowed to an acceptable pace, and she seemed comfortable enough now to speak to him casually and without apprehension.

"I guess I would have shot him for it... actually I guess I did because I remember finding bullet holes in the walls all the time, but he was too strong for that to have actually hurt him."

He'd heard her talk about the old master, or "turtle guy" before, but this was the first he'd heard of any kind of trade taking place. He also had assumed that any part the man had to play in things would have been negligible, using her power as an indication of what the race might posses as a whole. But now she revealed that he was strong enough to render her weapons ineffectual, enough that Kakarott would see the need to trade his property for training from the man.

"If you weren't with Kakarott all that time, how is it that he decided to send you here?" the irritation he felt at these new bits of information that resolved nothing and only confused things further must have shown, because she was quick to amend her statement, the nervousness creeping back into her voice.

"Oh, it wasn't like I wasn't with him... I mean he was around all the time for his training, so I was cooking for all of them and we all moved in to Kame House and I was keeping house for everyone too." She raised her glass and gulped as though to wash down the words, and picked at what was left on the tray, obviously finding a portion of it unpalatable, as he responded to this.

"Everyone?" The new revelation had given him pause in clearing his own tray. "How many others trained under this master while Kakarott was there?"

"Just the one other guy." Her cheeks had taken on a ruddy glow and he suddenly remembered that she never touched alcoholic drinks while in the weaker transformation and noted that her glass was empty at this point. "But Kame House was so very small. In fact there weren't even enough futons so your brother and I had to share one."

He felt a flash of unwanted jealousy that he was unable to disguise. "You told me before that you only rendered domestic services to Kakarott!"

Instead of starting at his outburst she giggled. "Oh it wasn't like that, silly. He was still just a little kid..."

"And when he was no longer a child?" His voice had taken on something of a growling undertone, but she appeared not to notice. He told himself it was because she'd had the nerve to refer to him as "silly" and that the turn his questions had taken were actually irrelevant. Further, she'd managed to avoid answering the original question.

"Well, by that time he'd been off training with God, and it's not like just anybody could have gone up to the heavens with him so..."

He knew he should have gotten back on track with his questions, but the next came without his even thinking about it. "And during that time, the Old Man? This other you speak of?"

She giggled again. "Kurirrin? He probably would've given his left arm for a chance but he and the old guy wouldn't have forced me into something like that if I didn't want it..."

"Did you?"

She responded to this with a burst of full on laughter. "Of course not! I stayed around there because it was as good as anywhere to be I guess, and I wanted to see what Go-um-Kakarott got out of his training when he came back... Now that you mention it, he turned out real handsome and all grown up by the time he got back, but he showed up just in time for the tournament and right after that he got married and..."

"Wait. Are you telling me that my brother actually -married- some native female!" His voice rose considerably, but he was unable to reign in his incredulity.

She abruptly seemed to notice his state of agitation. All mirth drained from her features suddenly. "Oh dear... I suppose I should explain. That woman, I think she kind of tricked him into it. I mean, she even entered the tournament and fought him. They say she's the strongest woman on the planet, actually, but she lost, and I guess he did it anyway just because she had the guts to challenge him..."

Finally, something that made sense.

"...but I don't really think he knew what he was getting into. I mean, he's like you with stuff like that. Not really interested, you know?" She reached across the table and touched his hand as though to allay his anger. He jerked away, but not before letting it linger there for part of a moment.

He decided then that it was best to lay aside the part of the story concerning Kakarott's wife and get back to the heart of the matter. "But why did he send you here?"

"I'm really sorry, but I don't rightly know. You'll have to ask me when I'm... different. Somebody made me sneeze right after the tournament started, and I don't remember much after that, except waking up here."

"Surely," he began to stand up, his patience waning having hit the same brick wall he'd encountered so many times before, "there is some small bit of information you remember regarding your presence in his pod and subsequent arrival here." he leaned towards her menacingly and the familiar look of trepidation, nearly a kind of awe, crawled over her face haltingly, as though the effects of the ale were subsiding in small increments, leaving her with the realization that he wasn't feeding her and conversing with her in some ridiculous effort to be nice.

"Really, please," she scooted back in her chair in some pretense that she might duck away from him if need be, "if I could remember anything about it I'd tell you. Maybe I will if I change, but I don't know. I only know I do bad things during the times I can't remember stuff."

All of a sudden she sat up straight, almost haughtily, and stared directly into his eyes. "I know you make me do horrible things when I change," she declared, gravely. "I saw what was left of the places you sent me more than once."

It was his turn to laugh. The sudden show of arrogance amused him, but he didn't back off any. In fact, he took the opportunity to move in closer, placing his hands upon the table to lean over it farther and causing several of the dishes stacked there to clatter to the floor. "You just now finished telling me you do bad things in your stronger form. I didn't have to _make_ you do any of that," he couldn't help but grin approvingly, "you approached the whole business with relish. I am told your savagery is something of a minor legend within the ranks of the infantry as a matter of fact. I can't believe that Kakarott was not taking advantage of your particular talents similarly."

She shrank back down into the seat a little. "Maybe. But I'm sure I hadn't done anything as bad as that before you."

She was still avoiding the question. He sat back down slowly, thinking that he might find some way of mentally flanking her diversions as he'd tried intimidation so many times before unsuccessfully.

"I really can't see what's so bad about it anyway. Cleaning a place up so that it's all nice and tidy for those more deserving. It's only business, the very nature of civilization."

"Civilization!" she looked aghast despite herself, "how can you believe that...?"

"Yet for some reason, my brother seems to have deemed you and your ilk as members of the deserving few. Enough to have gone against his primary orders. Why is that, do you think?"

"I... I really couldn't say." She stumbled over the words. It was as if he could see her trying to piece together what might have been her thought process in her stronger form. "He never told us he had orders." She said this with finality, as though it explained away everything that didn't quite add up and put a close to the subject.

But he wasn't finished and pressed on, finding another line of questioning to keep her talking. "Perhaps these other warriors you speak of were powerful enough to contest him?"

"Oh, no. Even the King of Demons and God himself fought in that tournament and he beat them all. I think a lot of them didn't really know what to make of how strong he was. If we knew he was from another planet that might have explained a lot actually."

"You told me before that he killed off the best of the warriors your world had to offer, as a means of terrorizing the populace. Now you're telling me that several were present at this tournament, right up until the point that you were sent to what was Vegetasei. Pray tell, which of these is the version of things I am supposed to believe?"

"But he did kill them. It's just some of them came back."

"Came back? From being dead? How is that even possible?" he stood again, this time sweeping away the table between them and all its contents in one motion. "I tire of you filling in the blanks of your account with utter nonsense!" She paled, but remained in her chair, gripping the sides as though it were a lifeboat in a raging sea.

"Please! Please don't. I've told you everything I know about it. Your brother, he never explained to anybody why he did the things he did..." She was in a panic again, biting at her lower lip in an effort to quell the tears already shining in her eyes, a habit he knew she'd taken up in order to assuage him when he was at his angriest. He'd seen a mere private harass and work her up into hysterics within minutes in this weaker form, but she'd come to give him difference and put in an effort to at least delay falling to pieces.

For himself he knew that she had pressed the limits of his control and it was unlikely he could continue without things ending fatally for her if not nearly.

"There are methods of torture I have not yet considered in light of your apparent frailty. Perhaps I should give thought to them at this impasse." For some reason the statement brought to mind Zarbon and his menagerie of frozen rarities. Trapped in partial stasis his stomach rolled thinking of it again even on derivative terms. At a point in the past, he, Nappa and Vegeta, having to report directly to Freiza on Planet 79 were given an exclusive albeit impromptu tour of "the facility". He'd gotten the distinct feeling that Zarbon intended to make him part of the collection housed there some day. All at once the slave took on the earmarks of some rare and delicate curiosity and he felt a strong rush of protectiveness toward it that he struggled to squelch, both in memory and in the present confines of the pod.

Having lost his patience for the whole exercise, he ordered her to put the mess and galley to rights and found another seat to try and relax in while he waited. He certainly had no intention of leaving her anywhere without being under strict watch, preferably his own. He put finding the guard that had let her out of isolation to go to medical on the top of his mental list of things to do. He'd decided to work off some of his irritation on the training decks, and a live target might be just the thing he needed.

As he watched her move about picking things up he noted that she was highly efficient in at least that regard... After a little while, the image blurred, splitting into two of her, one slightly superimposed upon the other. He realized suddenly he felt horribly weary as he blinked, snapping the two back into one. For the next few minutes he fought to keep his eyes open, considering that he might be suffering from a hint of regen fatigue after all, or perhaps having too much ale on top of a full stomach had got the better of him.

He must have lost the battle because the next thing he knew he stirred, finding the mess empty and clean, dimly aware of some clatter and what could have been hushed voices emanating from the galley. He got up and went to investigate, finding the slave there in her stronger form, putting up what looked be be the last of a collection of pots and pans into one of the lockers.

"Who're you talking to?" he grumbled, the words slurring slightly.

"Nobody here but us chickens," she responded cheerily, swinging the locker door shut with a slam and turning to pick up a half full bottle of ale sitting on one of the counters. He scanned the room and seeing no one else there immediately, he let the issue drop, forgoing a thorough search that somehow seemed like too much effort for him to expend at the moment.

"Hey, don't worry about it, OK? I figured I was supposed to tidy up here and you couldn't have been out for more than a moment or two. The only thing I did that might not have been kosher was helping myself to some of these stray bottles, and I got chits to cover it." She finished off the bottle and deposited it into the refuse hatch with an aggrandized toss. "It's not as if you've given me the chance to spend them lately," she added, scoffing slightly. "So what's on the docket? Hopefully something more interesting than recent fare... Ya know, I wasn't ever really cracked up for all this office work you keep sending."

"You'll return to quarters immediately," he said simply. He knew he ought to resume interrogations now that she had transformed, but found he just couldn't muster the patience for it. She consented to this surprisingly without much dissent, mentioning as he escorted her that it sure was a good thing the Captain had proffered her larger accommodations "way back when."

Arriving at said accommodations he pushed her through the portal and informed her that she probably only had them because the Captain expected she would've been killed shortly after joining the infantry. With that he shut and locked the hatch on her sour expression and returned to his own room.

He'd meant to check the logs so that he could identify which of the remaining infantry had been responsible for keeping tabs on the slave, but the sight of his mattress suddenly brought on a wave of tiredness that he couldn't quite shake. He retrieved the scouter and started scrolling through the manifests. After a short time the whole thing felt like a weighty affair that he could leave off until he got some decent rest. No sooner had he sat on the bed and set the scouter aside then his eyes slid shut again. For some unapparent reason the phrase "why, them's long odds, darlin'" whisked through his mind in a scratchy refrain, then "ya' know I'm good for it." This last came in what he was almost sure was the voice of the transformed slave. He could have sworn that she actually occupied the room and had said this at his bedside. He sat up swiftly to look for her, or thought he did, then realized that the room was in utter darkness although he hadn't killed the lighting.

He grasped at this thought for a moment, then only latched on to the fact that it felt as if something were missing. He groped his mind for what. What had he ever wanted for besides the promise of a good contest of strength and ample food afterward? The answer came presently. The measured sound of the shunting of warm blood through delicate veins... As he thought of it more words came: "please, please don't..." he unconsciously discerned that the slave had just said this in response to his threatening her, but this time they were his words though he hadn't said anything... But she heard them, he was sure of this as much as he was suddenly aware of her presence, this time in her weaker transformation, her sinuous form rising above him and coaxing ecstasy without his warrant. Drawing climax from him as steadily as one would pull thread from fleece.

At this he shot bolt upright, wide awake and aware, the standard lights stinging his eyes in the empty room, his nerves momentarily jangled. He cast about for the scouter and checked the time stamp, seeing with horror that he'd been out for a full nine hour cycle and the Captain was expecting him for a spar within the next ten minutes. The threat of decommission loomed. "Fuck!" he swore, the word echoing about his empty quarters like a portent as he rushed out, thankful that he'd lain down fully armored.

This episode was the start of his conviction that the slave possibly possessed some charming ability. Such things were rare, but had been documented before. He found more and more often that she pervaded his thoughts without warning, usually at the most inopportune times. He continually felt restless, unfulfilled, despite the fact that he was getting in more training than ever.

He researched all manner of torture methods in what little spare time he had, and found that most would result in some kind of permanent damage even though he intended to subject the slave to such things in her stronger form. There were a few possible options available to him nonetheless. He reasoned that he owed her at least a session or two after what she'd done to him on Andolonusia, even if he didn't get any useful information out of it. In one instance he was sitting at a holo terminal in a thankfully empty section of the ship intently looking over the information when the slave inexplicably wandered in and tossed herself into the chair next to him.

"Wat'cha lookin' at?" she asked genially as if there was nothing strange about her being out of her quarters against his order. She pressed in to get a look at the screen over his shoulder.

Before he even uttered the first word, she was pointing at the screen and making all kinds of exclamations about what was displayed there.

"Oooooh! Simulated drowning. That's one heck of a huckleberry from what I've heard... And that one there, with the fingernails. Ouch! Nasty!" She was noisily chewing something and punctuated her verbal observations with a couple of loud pops.

"What? What the hell is in your mouth?" There was so much wrong with the fact that she was even there in the first place, he hardly knew where to start.

"Gum. I didn't know they had gum here! The bartender guy traded me for a couple of chits. Tastes kinda' strong like licorice, and I never really liked licorice but I'm outta' smokes so... Brain defribulation?" she pointed at the screen again. "What the fuck is that?"

"You'll find out sooner rather than later if you don't move out of my way and shut your trap."

She eased back down into the seat, crossed her arms over her chest and pouted at him.

"Which one of those imbeciles let you out of isolation this time?"

Looking at him incredulously, she shrugged and popped the gum a couple of times.

He grabbed the a fistful of the front of her uniform and shook as roughly as he thought he could get away with without causing major damage. "Which one?"

Her eyes widened a little bit but she appeared mostly unfazed. "Settle down. You just now told me to shut up. Geez!"

He jerked her out of the seat so that she was practically nose to nose with him. "Which. One."

"Honestly I couldn't tell you. That bunch you have on guard duty, they all look the same to me and it's not like they tell me their names or anything."

"You know dispatching the last one came out of my pay. But I reasoned it was worth it." He pushed her back down into the chair.

"No shit?" she pulled at her displaced collar and let it snap back into place, but not before brashly displaying an ample amount of cleavage. "No wonder it was so much harder this time. They really make you pay for that? What assholes. You shouldn't put up with that sort of thing. Surely you could lodge a complaint?..."

"The only complaint I have is that you are blatantly disobeying my orders!" He clicked the screen off and got up, hauling her with him, and started back to her quarters.

"Hey now! Damn!" She struggled to keep up with him despite the awkward grip he had on her hair. "I can take a hint... I just wanted to catch you before you went off on this next thing and ask about the tournament..." She trailed off as it was painfully obvious he wasn't going to respond, but it was hardly a moment before she added, "actually, you should take me with you. I'm about stir crazy..."

"Good."

They arrived at her room and he pushed her over the threshold.

"Aren't you at least going to tell me whose brain you're going to defribulate?"

He shot her a pointed look.

"Oh." She frowned slightly. "You know you don't have to go to all that trouble. You could just come by here and ask whatever it is you wanna know." She sighed. "We never talk anymore. You never call or write... I thought surely you'd at least write after I left you that message in the last report. I even put a smiley face in there for you."

He shut the door, locking and then double checking it. As he strode down the hall he saw a guard coming the other way, probably picking up the next shift. When the guard saw him it stopped, performing a stiff salute. He hauled off and punched it in the gut and then proceeded to beat it to death, depositing the bloody heap in front of her door. He could only hope someone would get the message.

The next mission was another wearisome exercise in flushing out pests. He considered it bliss compared to what he just left.

He returned and after some avoidance visited the slave's quarters to see if he could in fact get some information without going to much trouble. She claimed that she had no idea why Kakarott decided to cast her into his possession. For all his gruff demeanor, she appeared happy just to have some company.

"He's the strongest thing on the planet. He didn't have to tell us anything he didn't want to," she explained. "You probably wouldn't either. Admit it."

After that she regaled him with a tale of Kakarott completely annihilating one of the world's most powerful armies. She said that it took him less time to do it than it took for she and the other warriors she'd talked about before to travel to the site, and that it had been a bloodthirsty affair that shocked any dissenting populace into submission.

"Look," she continued, "I can't tell you what he was on about having me come here. Maybe he found out your planet got destroyed and just wanted to let you know he was still around. Like I said, he never even told us about you, or the Trade, or anything like that. You might get there and he's ok with signing up here but I doubt it. Most likely he's going to serve you a beating and if you're lucky, send you on your way."

He laughed at the notion. "Whatever training he's had it couldn't possibly meet the standards of that which I received on Vegetasei. Judging from you, your world hardly sustains enough gravity for him to break a sweat in the first place. What makes you think he can deliver a trouncing taking that into account?"

"It's just how things turn out with him. Every time. Trust me."

"I trust that he won't discount his Saiyajin heritage in such a way. One cannot denounce blood so easily."

"I still think you should have left this outfit when you had the chance."

After that he decided if he wanted any more information he would have to escalate to torture, but he kept putting it off. There always happened to be something of more immediate importance for him to attend to, and after the ultimatum he'd left on her doorstep she remained in quarters without incident.

The next thing he knew the ship docked on Planet 75 and what was left of the crew were making preparations for the tournament. He hadn't even had the chance to consider actually placing a bet on himself though at that point his finances, for what little he cared about them, were in absolute shambles. He wound up winning his bout only because his curiosity begged that it could even be done. And he'd hoped to buoy his mood which the slave had managed to embitter by mentioning something that reminded him of his father. This and the fact that he'd had to field several private purchase offers that were sent through his scouter while he waited in the Pit for his match, some of them complete with shamelessly lewd overtones under the assumption that she was recreational property.

He might have taken some pride in the fact that so many others wanted what he had, some of them willing to part with a very healthy sum of credits to that end, but this only served to dampen his spirits further... And further still in the palpability that he shouldn't have cared less about it one way or the other. The feeling only shifted to fury when Zarbon showed some interest in the slave, and then a simmering malignancy when Nappa picked up where Zarbon had left off.

Of course he'd never expected Nappa to be the one to catch on to his elevated power level. He'd planned to reveal the technique to Vegeta at a later date. It was no secret that the Prince was disconsolate in his role with the Trade. He certainly expected Vegeta to stage some kind of rebellion in the future. He staunchly believed it was only a matter of time before the Prince attained enough power to do it. He counted on being of some use to his Prince when the time came.

Now he would most likely have to divulge how to use the ki dampening technique as soon as Vegeta caught up with him as he couldn't imagine that Nappa hadn't gone and blabbed about it. How else would he have explained the lacerations he ended up with across his face? Claiming that a lower class warrior was responsible for them was bad enough, he couldn't possibly have admitted that he received them from a mere slave.

The fact that the slave had been able to do such a thing was just another vexing mystery to top all the rest of it. The careless way in which he'd tried to get to the bottom of it had been a huge error fueled by his untoward attraction and feelings of jealousy. He'd put hardly a rational thought into it and gotten nothing out of it. And then, he couldn't help himself but to prematurely go look in on her even after berating himself for his weakness in the matter. The very sight of her laying there asleep, completely unclothed, cheeks tearstained, lips turning an unnatural shade of blue from the cold air emanating from the climate control was enough to bring every one of his irrational feelings bubbling back up.

He'd found himself staring slack jawed at her, trying to come to to terms with it all on the one hand and on the other considering completely throwing his will to the wind for a repeat performance of what had just transpired in his own quarters. He covered her in the hopes of gaining some sense of rationality, but it didn't help at all. The image burned in the back of his mind and somehow he knew that forevermore it would stay, regardless of what happened.

He practically fled back to his room and sat down at his desk, uncontrollable waves of emotion he couldn't even put a name to rolling through him. He saw the discarded collar laying where he'd left it and the waves broke in a stream of fury. Somehow he stopped himself from discharging enough ki to blast through the hull of the the ship. When he was finished he'd destroyed everything in the room, which was several times larger as that included some of the walls. Fuck it. He'd been on "good behavior" and it was time _he_ got an upgrade in living arrangements, whether the Captain had ordered them or not.

And then his scouter chirped an audible. Said Captain had sent for him.

He sat on the floor of the despoiled room and forced his breathing to slow and reached for the tiny well of stillness he knew was there somewhere, shunting the thought of where he'd learned the technique to the very back of his consciousness. He couldn't tell how long he'd stayed there before answering the summons.

The Captain was having a grand old time and didn't even mention his failure to respond immediately. He sat in his place on the bridge, brazenly allowing two females he must have picked up on 75 to drape themselves over either side of him as he swilled wine directly from a bottle.

He welcomed the Sub Commander with genuine jocularity. Raditzu noted that the two females were a bizarre emulation of Freiza's retinue. He realized all of a sudden that he was looking at a man probably ten times the richer than before the tournament.

Yes, fine. The damage to the barracks could be overlooked. Of course he was deserving of better living arrangements. The shortage of infantry could be easily remedied when they docked on 599Xi. Have a drink! Hard work paid off in spades! Have another!

By the time he left the Captain's presence he had a major case of the spins and had agreed to disembark across the rift to reach Chikyuu before the main ship. The Captain having promised him full market value for the world if he had it cleared, enlisted Kakarott and returned before the ship could travel half way around the rift. "What's wrong with another gentlemanly wager?" Daax had crowed.

After having slept it off, Raditzu felt a little more himself and made plans to simply break the slave by chemical means as the med tech had originally suggested. He went to retrieve the narcotics and was informed that they had already been put to some use. "Such things are habit forming," the tech explained abashedly. But he could procure more, as much as he wanted, when they docked with the space station.

He didn't think he had struck the slave so hard, really. At first it didn't look like he'd done any damage at all, then she'd coughed up a copious amount of blood and transformed. Her screams had echoed down the ship's corridors as he carried her to medical, her tiny hands gripping at the front of his armor as she begged him not to let go.

He couldn't afford regen for himself let alone her at that point, but of course there'd been an entire satchel of contraband left in her room he could trade for painkillers in some hope that the the med tech could perform traditional surgery.

She had marked him for a patsy from the moment she arrived on ship, to the very moment she left it. As he felt the meager warmth of Sol upon entering its system and the network of ice crystals that had had formed in his eyeballs retreating, all he could do was laugh.

"Well played," he thought. "Well played."


	20. What a bargain

Ransom Due Chapter 20 - What a Bargain! I'll Take Two.

Bulma looked over the nest of cables and components on her workbench and sighed. Her father had laid claim to researching what little actual mechanical systems and hardware that were part of the spacecraft, leaving her to trace through the maze that was the computing core of the thing. Most of it was solid state hardware and though unfamiliar and advanced compared to what she usually had to work with, she'd easily identified power supply and processor. However, the memory systems appeared to be a fractured melange of separate circuitry. After intensive survey, she had been able to trace only one constant. Everything eventually linked back to the module she'd carelessly destroyed in her shock at the appearance of the holographic projection of one of their pending invaders.

Or perhaps pending. She hadn't been able to get much more information out of Lunch. Despite all the time Lunch had lived at Kame house, Bulma felt that she'd never really gotten to know the woman all that well but all of her first impressions, a good portion of them not favorable, had been confirmed and intensified after she had unsuccessfully attempted to gain a little more insight into what exactly they could be expecting. Mention of the workings of the ship only resulted in demands to have the thing reassembled and in working order as soon as possible from the blonde personality, the other could only vaguely explain her impressions as an end user, information that came haltingly and with skittish avoidance.

Mostly, she'd explained, the whole thing worked automatically, aside from entry of navigational coordinates, the passenger only had to activate the launch systems and prepare for the engagement of the stasis field and delivery to their destination. This, and repeated admonitions not to activate the homing beacon, was the sum of what Bulma was going to get, apparently. She had made an effort to keep her focus to other components besides the one she'd broken, which became evident was a communications hub, but her mind kept going back to the projection, and though there was something terrifying about the man she'd seen, she couldn't help but let her curiosity distract her from much else concerning the ship. It appeared all roads led back to the module anyway, so she'd set aside her fear, which had progressively diminished as she viewed the thing in more technical terms, and decided to concentrate on repairing the damage she'd done.

It probably would have taken less time but for another distraction. Yamcha, having answered her initial call to alert him to the crisis, had continued to make attempts to contact her. She screened and left all his calls unanswered, but her mother had derailed the tactic by answering herself and inviting him over. She didn't bother to ask Bulma or even inform her about it until it was too late and he was already on his way. He would be arriving any minute and she planned to have herself intrenched in the communications circuits by the time he arrived, guaranteeing she would only regard him with cool detachment.

"Bulma?"

He'd interrupted her far sooner than she expected. Or perhaps not, she'd become completely engrossed with bypassing the destroyed circuits by patching them through her now gutted notebook computer. That part had been easy enough, but once she managed to get the screen to display any of the information, everything coming through was in alien characters, forcing her to switch from circuit cracking mode to code breaking. It took her some time to get it to display as anything even recognizable, and when it finally did strings of jumbled letters, numbers and symbols scrolled across the screen. She'd thrown herself into finding some means of translation and had hardly heard him.

"Bingo!" she exclaimed, the translation program she'd been working on finally made a breakthrough just at his arrival. Ordered characters she could understand slowly appeared across the screen of the notebook.

"I wasn't sure you'd be so happy I came by. I'd got to thinking you were avoiding me."

She held up a finger to silence him, busily scribbling notes with the other hand. "Wait." She waved him off. After a moment of tapping on the notebook's keys, she pulled her attention from the thing and greeted him with a pasted-on smile.

"Actually, I am happy to see you. I need somebody to help me get the missing piece of this puzzle."

"Alright, I'll do whatever I can to help." Yamcha said quietly, with more than a little doubt in his voice, and returned her smile nervously. "It's been a while, huh? Maybe we should talk..."

She stood brusquely, her attention on disconnecting the notebook. Or, at least she tried to focus on getting the thing together and into a knapsack. Anger at his breach in what she thought was a serious relationship between them diverted her effort and she wound up shoving the notebook in only partially assembled. She had nothing to say to him that he shouldn't know already. When she faced him she recognized the hurt look in his eyes. Staunchly ignoring it she thrust the knapsack into his arms and moved around him to the door. "There's an alien invasion on the way," she huffed. "_Whatever_ it is you want to talk about can wait."

He followed, hardly a pace behind her. "But I need to... It was only..."

"Save it. You can use your powers of persuasion to get Lunch to hand over the communications device she's hoarding."

He sighed, but he was actually somewhat relieved she had cut him off. Despite practicing what he had to say to her hundreds of times in his head, he'd still fumbled over the words, and they weren't even the right words. Not a very good start. Then it occurred to him what she'd just said.

"Me? Why do you think I can convince her to do anything?"

He tried to imagine such a scenario that didn't involve him dodging bullets if he had to deal with the blonde, and ran right into Bulma's back when she stopped abruptly.

"Maybe it only works on heiresses then?" she hissed, her hands clenching at her sides.

"It wasn't like that," he insisted, reaching to put a hand on her shoulder. "It was a business dinner, not a..."

"Business? Really?" She turned, seething. "are you forgetting I'm practically running a business here? Do you think I don't know what that kind of a dinner date is all about? That I haven't been to one or two myself?"

"But I was only going to get one chance to...Wait. You have?"

"Well, no. Not yet." She tossed her hair and puffed out her chest a little. "But I imagine I will some day if I take over the corporation, and I already know business is just what you _say_ you're doing in that situation."

"That woman owns the team. What was I supposed to do? I couldn't just say no..."

"I don't know. Bring an associate with you? Even if you just took Puar it would have looked better than showing up alone... I shouldn't even have to talk about this. What the paparazzi got was pretty self explanatory. Besides, if we don't figure something out about these spacemen, there might not even be any baseball anymore, so just help me out with this or go do some training."

She huffed and continued outside, rummaging for a capsule. He caught up to her.

"Well, I guess at least I can give you a ride."

She looked up and noticed his new hover car parked beyond the lawn. "Hah!" she crowed. Looks like business is good, huh?"

Lunch followed Chiaotzu into the restaurant. It was actually less of a restaurant than something of a flop house. Low tables, cushions on the floor and an ever present heavy, cloying haze of smoke characterized the place. If you were smart you just ordered some of the stout coffee they served in cups like little thimbles, maybe something from the bar. Most of the food was little better than offal, and if the bartender didn't recognize you it was a good chance you'd get something more akin to water than spirits.

"You wanna explain what this is about, little man?". She shifted her eyes to appraise the other patrons without turning her head. Their reaction to the small figure that looked more like a floating doll than a man did not suggest that he was a regular.

"I didn't peg you for the type that would know this place," she ventured.

"No. But you know it, so it was easy to find."

They took a table near the back, a smaller one, made for no more than four. Hopefully no one would attempt to join them. She immediately scooted onto a cushion that put her view to the entrance, back to the wall. Chiaotzu sat across from her, brushing at the dirty cushion to no avail before settling in.

"Damn. How much can you fish outta someone's noggin like that?"

He shrugged. "Depends."

"So why you wanna come here anyway? It's not exactly the Ritz."

"Your training doesn't seem to be going well. I thought someplace familiar might help."

"Pfft.". She blew the stray hair threatening to reach her nose out of her face. "Don't you think Ten ought to be more worried about training himself than bothering with me?"

"Well, actually, he doesn't really like the idea of this very much."

"Then why would he do it?"

"Because I think it's important. Sometimes if I think something is important enough, I influence him to do it." A look crossed over his face. The doll's mask appeared to drop for just a fleeting moment, reminding her that at one time he'd in fact been been an assassin.

"For real?"

A haggard, older man that sufficed for a waiter arrived at their table. She held up two fingers and a thumb indicating that they wanted two of the coffees plus the remainder of the pot, and he moved on to the next patron.

"How much of the time are you...?"

"Not very often. But most of the time we tend to agree on the important things and I don't need to." He cocked his head slightly to the side, beady black eyes boring into her. "It appears the interest of the other occupants has waned. Try the technique again."

"What? Here? Right now?"

"Yes. It is unlikely the others here will take note as you are sitting in heavy shadow and they can't read ki. You really shouldn't have any problem with it. You're a lot stronger since you came back."

He smiled. It was the sort of smile that had always been a bit disarming on him before, but now it was plain creepy. His manner of speech had become as doll-like as his looks, the cadence flat, as though he were in a partial trance.

The waiter returned to their table with the coffee and she realized that he likely wouldn't have noticed a third party mysteriously appearing at the table as all his attention was on collecting the rare tip left at another table before someone else stole it.

"What makes you think I can do it here? Place like this kinda puts me on edge..."

"You work better when you're on edge. Try it again."

"Why don't you just use your influence to get me to do it?"

"It doesn't work that way. Not for something like this. The influence must be yours." He nodded, indicating that she should make the attempt.

"Alright. I tell you what. A little wager might be some incentive here. If I pull it off, you buy the next round and use your influence to make sure we get something stronger than this coffee. For everybody in here. If I can't, you buy the next round just for us."

"Agreed." He nodded again and sipped delicately from his cup, oblivious to or undaunted by the fact that he would lose in either case.

"Alright then." Ten had explained that the technique was really just the same sort of thing she did all the time, bringing a weapon to hand without really thinking about it. It was more like sleight of mind than sleight of hand, but the same basic mechanics were at play. Thinking about drawing weapons made her recall the mysterious appearance of the twin blasters during her dealings with Piccolo. That had been an entirely different thing than sleight of hand. She didn't even know how it was possible. She had re-capsulated the guns and when she opened them again later, she half expected to see the nine millimeter pistols as they originally had been, but out popped the two blasters. She would have wondered that she was going crazy, then decided that it had never really bothered her before, so why not continue down the rabbit hole?

She realized her thoughts had meandered off track and tried concentrating again, making an effort to pull part of her attention away from the other people in the place; the awareness of the location of each, their body language, subtle indicators of intent... She told herself that she was sitting across from a psychic assassin that probably would have it covered in the moment it should take to actually perform the split-form technique should any of them make a threatening move, and focused her mind within, but not without difficulty.

She had always found it nearly impossible to reach the stillness of heart required even for meditation. She recognized within her own psyche the scattered nervousness, the ever present urge for action. And then, looking deeper there was the divide, something like a curtain or shroud that kept the other part of herself at bay. She saw herself in her mind's eye, reaching for the veil, jerking it aside and simultaneously pushing, drawing on the strength Ten had shown her how to recognize and harness over the past two weeks of relentless mental training.

It was as though she felt something tear, as if the pitch of everything around her went up an octave as it stretched taught and broke. It felt something like getting hit by a semi, but only for a moment. And then nothing happened. Aside from a slight feeling like nausea she remained alone on her side of the table.

Swallowing hard to assure that she would not in fact be sick she started to tell Chaiotzu he would have to order their drinks when her attention was forced back by a general sense of unease pervading the establishment. The clientele near the entrance murmured and shifted to attentiveness as two figures entered.

"Oh, no. You've got to be kidding me," she blurted as the sick feeling suddenly redoubled upon recognition of the two.

The lighting was low enough she couldn't really see much more than their shadowed forms, but the haughty 'I think I'm entitled to own everything' stance of the Briefs kid was more than enough.

"A joke? Yamcha could easily hold his own in here," Chaiotzu murmured into his coffee. He hadn't even turned around.

"Wow, for a psychic, some things go right over your head. I just meant I don't really wanna deal with..." She trailed off as the two reached their table.

"Well, you two made yourselves difficult enough to find!" Bulma declared, loudly enough to get the attention of the few people who weren't already staring in their direction. She stood next to their table, one hand on her hip and the other wrapped tightly around the straps of her knapsack, leaving Yamcha to keep a wary eye on the rest of the clientele.

"I thought surely you'd be training with Tenshinhan," she looked down disapprovingly at Chaiotzu. "If I knew him any better, I might think he was upset that you two deserted him when we started asking where you went."

Chaiotzu frowned a little before responding. "His disappointment will pass," he said quietly, and then lifted himself off his cushion and headed to the bar to close the wager, motioning to Bulma and Yamcha to make themselves comfortable as he went.

Yamcha settled himself onto a cushion making room for Bulma, who gave him a look of disdain and seated herself as far from him as possible. Why did she have to make such a big deal over his meeting with the owner of the team? He was nervous enough around women, having to complete a business deal under the circumstances had been positively harrowing, and he'd just wound up going along with things as they went. So he hadn't declined the dancing and drinking. She was right, though. He should have brought Puar with him... He should have brought Puar today.

Lunch was already looking at Bulma like she was on the verge of going ballistic. She certainly didn't look like she would agree to any demands. Bulma had started emptying her knapsack and going on about why it was essential that she get her hands on the communication device when the low murmur of the patrons died to a hush as the front door swung open, allowing light from outside to knife through the smoky haze in the place.

The silhouette of a woman stumbled in. When the door swung shut and his eyes readjusted to the gloom, Yamcha had to look twice, and then again, between Lunch and the woman who just entered and was making her way haltingly to their table... Lunch. Just the other version.

Bulma, who had chosen a seat that didn't offer a view of the door, had gone right on talking about the communications device. She was so intent on convincing Lunch to hand it over, she hadn't even noticed the change in the atmosphere of the place, or for that matter, the sudden look of open-jawed disbelief on the blonde's face that Yamcha knew was echoed on his own.

It wasn't until the "other" Lunch had scooted in next to him, a bit too close, that Bulma stopped speaking, a look of jealous anger crossing her face before the dawning of recognition of the impossibility of the situation.

For her part, "nice" Lunch looked nervously at each of them, then, having heard the tail end of Bulma's hard sell, quietly offered, "I can tell you where the scouter is."

"Why you little...!" The blonde slammed her palms on the table hard enough to topple some of the little cups and jumped up as though she would reach across and strangle her counterpart, any trace of surprise forgotten. "You just can't help but show up and _screw_ up everything, can you?"

Any attention of the other patrons disappeared and a riotous cheer went up as the bartender announced that "the little guy" was buying everyone's next round.

"But we should give her the scouter." Ranchi stood herself. Yamcha startled for a moment as she brushed up against him in doing so. He wouldn't have thought the more docile personality had enough courage to argue the point, but maybe it was different in that she was, in a way, questioning herself.

"You know that's how they collect information, and we've been using it since we got here. Who knows how much we've given away already. And Vegeta..."

"Fuck Vegeta!" The blonde snarled. "You already convinced yourself he wouldn't bother coming here, and even if he does we could be long gone if you'd just shut up and stick with the plan."

"But I was thinking about it some more, and..." Ranchi started to explain, but the blonde cut her off.

"You? Thinking? You need to just leave the thinking to me." She turned to Chaiotzu as he returned to the table. "I knew this was a bad idea. Now that I've done it, how do I shut it off?"

"You have had complete training with split form," he said casually as he settled back in at the table. "Concentrate..."

"Wait," Bulma interjected. She spoke in a soothing tone to Ranchi. "Vegeta... He's the guy I saw on the console, right? Why wouldn't he come here if they're planning to invade?"

"Because it will only take one of them..." Both of the Lunches said in unison before they realized they'd spoken together and trailed off, the blonde scowling at her counterpart.

"But they thought this place was totally primitive," Ranchi continued tentatively. "You know they're interested in technology. Maybe Capsule Corp. can make some kind of a deal..."

"Yeah, nice." Kushami's scowl deepened. "So most everyone gets killed and the rest are enslaved. That's not a stupid plan or anything."

"At least some would live."

"We'll I'm planning on us... I mean _me, _living, that's all I'm worried about. And if that ship doesn't get fixed in a hurry..."

"But I'm not talking about dealing with Freiza," Ranchi said with uncharacteristic confidence.

"Wait, what?... Who's Freiza?" Bulma started, but Ranchi continued, ignoring her for the moment.

"That communications guy we... you met with about betting on the tournament... And Nestor too. They both said Vegeta was probably going to turn on the Trade. Maybe we could deal with him..."

"Are you nuts?! Do you even remember the one time you saw Vegeta? He's not going to take seriously..."

"We have all kinds of things to bargain with if you think about it... Capsule tech, senzu beans... the dragonballs. If Vegeta finds out about any of those things and thinks they could give him an advantage, he will come here. At least if we try to convince him to help us in return..."

"You're an idiot. If he finds out about that stuff he'll just come and take it. Everyone dies anyway. Besides, Raditzu is going to make short work of this place before Vegeta even decides to turn his pod around to get here."

"But not if Vegeta thinks he'll destroy any means of getting that stuff. He might actually stop Raditzu from doing too much damage, especially if he thinks he can get a hold of any of it without Freiza knowing anything about it."

"But what about Goku?" Yamcha chimed in. "What about us?" He cut his eyes at Chaitozu. "We've been training pretty hard. Between all of us we can take these guys easy by the time they get here, right?"

"No." Both Lunches and Chaiotzu said at once. "Not at this pace, not if Lunch's memories of their power is accurate," Chaiotzu finished.

"Even if this wasn't a totally stupid idea," Kushami said, "how're you gonna keep Freiza from finding out? Everything that goes through the com network gets back to him."

Ranchi shrugged. "She's the genius," she said sheepishly, looking at Bulma. At that she slumped over the table, completely relaxed.

"Hey! What're you... Shit!" Kishami explained suddenly, then just as suddenly her form lost coherence and only Ranchi remained.

She lifted her head off the table. "So lets go get that scouter before something makes me sneeze," she said.


End file.
